And the Winners Are...
Cathy Ramirez
3rd Place,
International Category
Mary Gray slipped as stealthily as a mountain cat out the kitchen door and through the yard. She passed the sleeping bird dogs that would certainly have howled a warning to the quiet household had anyone else tried to creep by. She moved quickly, the hood of her dark cloak, covering her head and face. She might have been a shadow, hurrying through the yard, disappearing into the tree line.
From his window, The Stranger watched her. Even after six months he remained The Stranger. He had given his name of course, repeatedly, but it was foreign and difficult to pronounce, so to the good country folks of Deer Lick, he remained The Stranger.
Not that he was unknown. He was the man who had appeared out of nowhere, and cheated death with the help of Sally and Mary Gray, the old Doctor, and the Mercy of God. They talked of his jewelry, his rich clothes, his elegant manners, but, they really knew little about him save what they manufactured at quilting bees and prayer meetings. He liked it that way.
When he recovered, he offered to pay for bed and board in John Gray's house and John had been glad to take the money, no questions asked. It mattered little to John where The Stranger or especially his money came from, so long as some of it rested in his pocket every Saturday evening.
The clock struck three and The Stranger went back to bed. Mary would not be back until dawn. Then she would slip into her room and reappear in a clean housedress and apron, as fresh and innocent as only youth could be after keeping such hours. For Mary was not only keeping late hours, she was keeping a secret.
When he had first awakened from the fever he was never left alone. Mary or her mother or sometimes the Doctor's wife stayed with him day and night. They knitted or did fancy work while he slept and ministered to his needs when he awoke. He was, at first, too weak to move even to feed himself, and the women, with Tommy's help, fed, bathed, and turned him. Mary, who being young and unmarried was not permitted in the room during such intimacies, stayed with him at night, watching that the fever did not creep back up. When he was awake, she sometimes read to him from the Bible or the collected works of Shakespeare that the schoolteacher brought by. But, often at night when she thought him sleeping, Mary would gaze out the window, crying softly. Once in a while Tommy would wake and catch her thus and while they thought he slept, they would have whispered discussions and it was through these discussions that The Stranger learned of Mary's heartbreak concerning Hugh Gregory and its connection to Uncle Dave's Will.
It was some weeks after he had grown strong enough to relieve the women of their watches that he heard Mary creep by the door of the room he shared with Tommy. He heard the kitchen door close softly and had watched from the window as Mary slipped away. He stayed there until the first traces of dawn brought her back. She stopped at the edge of the woods, turned to the tall figure with her, they embraced, then, she hurried back into the house. She had repeated this every night since, though The Stranger no longer felt it necessary to watch for her.
John Gray walked through his rows of corn, observing that it could have been a better stand if there had been more rain. His mind was troubled. The news that Dave was leaving his money to Mary had brought hope into the little part of his heart that had not already dried up, but it had come with a price. Dave would have to die before Mary got a cent, and that could take years. It would be just like Dave to outlive him, too. He was in good health, the last time John heard anything of him. He had some enemies, of course. Hugh Gregory did not like him, nor did old man Gregory. Clark Sampson had little use for him, either, since Dave and Banker Collins had muscled him off his farm last fall. John himelf could hardly bear the sight of him. There were others, a man could hardly live 62 years without making a few enemies, but none that might have a big enough reason to do him in and go to prison so Mary could inherit that money.
John turned from the field toward the house. It looked like he would have to make his own living for the next season, anyway. He had better hitch up the team and head for the hayfield.
The first thing John noticed when he reached the yard was the Reverend Hurley's buggy tied to the hitching rail. John had his own thoughts about preachers who had nothing more to do on Wednesday mornings but ride around in buggies while farmers like him had to work to give them food, and subscribe to a salary to boot. John was not in a good humor, so he decided to go on to the barn, but Sally saw him from the kitchen window and ran out to meet him.
"It's turrible news. Turrible," Sally said, wiping her eyes with the hem of her apron.
John Gray was as near to being surprised as he could get. He had seen Sally cry exactly twice, once when her mother passed on and again on the day they were married. He had told her on the way home that he didn't approve of tears and did not intend to tolerate them, and she had never let him see her cry again. It could only mean that some tragedy had fallen on Mary or Tommy to bring them on now.
He asked, "What's happened?"
Sally answered him. "Forrest Gregory passed over this morning."
"Forrest Gregory. Is that all?" John spat, relieved and annoyed. "Why would you waste any tears on him?"
"It's just so upsetting to Mary."
"I don't know why it should be. She's had nothing to do with them Gregorys in six months." He stormed into the house, ready to set Mary straight, but the sight of the preacher's wife with her arm around Mary stopped him.
"There, Mary, it was for the best," Mrs. Hurley was saying. "He's been so sick." She patted Mary's shoulder. John growled. He didn't hold with coddling women, teaching them to be crybabies. Mary did not speak, she just wiped at her eyes with her handkerchief.
Sally brought coffee and John sat at the table with the Reverend and The Stranger, wondering how he could end this scene and get back to work.
"Forrest was a good man. He lived a good life and he's gone on to his reward," the Reverend said.
"I know that," Mary said. "I just keep thinking about Hugh, all alone there. It isn't right. I can't bear to think of it," and she rose and ran up the stairs. Sally followed, leaving an awkward silence in the room.
"We need to call on Hugh," the Reverend said, standing. He and his wife left and John went to the barn, leaving The Stranger to his own thoughts.
Forrest Gregory was buried three days later, on Monday morning. Why Missouri laws forbid funerals on Sunday was more than John could understand. He couldn't do any work on Sunday, anyway. Sally was a religious woman and would not have it. John would have been happy to have Forrest Gregory buried without his help, but Sally would not hear of this, either.
When Mary appeared, John looked twice to see if it was really her. She wore black, of course, but she looked more the widow than the neighbor. Her hat, hastily altered last night, had a black veil that covered her face and even her gloves and handkerchief were black. As they were leaving the yard, The Stranger remembered two letters he had to mail while he was in town and went hack to get them. Why he was going at all was a mystery to John, since he had never met Forrest Gregory.
They were a few minutes away when John thought of the hayrake and turned hack to give Tommy instructions. At twelve, Tommy might be too young to attend a funeral, but he was old enough to mow and rake hay. He would have to be careful, too, because without that inheritance there was no money to replace the old hay-rake. Halfway to the barn he met The Stranger. They nodded to each other, then John went to find Tommy.
Forrest Gregory had lived in Deer Lick all of his sixty-seven years, and was known as a kind and gentle man, so it was no surprise that the church was full. They sat at the rear, listening to Forrest's life and virtues being read by the Reverend Hurley. Mary wept steadily, twisting her handkerchief, behaving in such a nervous and uncharacteristic way that Sally grew concerned.
It had broken Sally's heart that Mary was so unhappy. She had hoped to see Mary married to a man who would devote himself to making her happy. Sally had entertained such hopes for herself once, when she was very young. But, Rachel, her mother, had been left a widow with seven children when Sally was just ten. As she grew up, Sally knew that she was too plain and unremarkable to hope for a wonderful husband. When she was just fifteen, John Gray's mother died, and he decided to marry. He had asked Rachel permission to marry Sally, though he barely knew her. He was thirty-four, two years younger than Sally was now. John had wanted a wife who knew hard work and would not expect too much. Sally fit the bill. She was the third of her mother's children, the oldest girl. Rachel was not well, and with five mouths to feed, her older boys had already left home, she was not difficult to persuade. John had promised to provide for Sally, keep her fed and a roof over her head, and he had done that.
Mary was born within the year. John wanted a boy, and was disappointed, but Sally was delighted. Mary was beautiful, even as a baby, and Sally was determined to see her happy, so determined that it seemed to some that she favored Mary. When John decided it was time for a son, and Tommy was born eight years later, Sally had been equally delighted. Satisfied that he had a boy, John decided that was enough.
When the preacher finished, John's family rose and left the church with the crowd. They waited on the lawn as the casket was carded out, followed by Hugh, looking completely lost and alone. Then, something happened that shocked the entire community of Deer Lick.
Mary Gray, always quiet, in the background, never seeking the spotlight, who had never in her life disobeyed a single word her parents said left their sides and approached Hugh. They stood a minute, looking at each other. Then, Hugh offered his arm and together they followed the casket next door to the cemetery.
Maybe the preacher had used most of his words inside or, more likely, he saw the warning signs of John Gray's temper fit. Whatever the reason, he spoke quickly, said a short prayer, then shook Hugh's hand and tried, with limited success, to intercept John's path to Mary.
"Mary, what do you think you're doing?" John roared. "You come on. We're going home."
"No," Mary said quietly and firmly.
"What do you mean, no?" John shouted.
"John," Sally said behind him.
"I mean, no, I'm not going home with you." Mary lifted the black veil and looked into her father's furious face with a strength even she did not know she had. "I'm going home with my husband."
Even John Gray was silent for a minute or so. The crowd looked from Mary to Hugh to John, but no one spoke. When it seemed John's face could not get any redder, the Reverend Hurley said, "Perhaps we should go inside and talk about this."
"Maybe you just better keep quiet," John sputtered. "If he's her husband, you did it."
"John, please," Sally said.
"You hush up," John ordered. "And you," he turned toward Mary. "She is a married woman" Hugh spoke up. "We were married four months ago here in this church by the Reverend Hurley. And, we're going home." They turned and walked away.
Slowly the crowd left, until only John, Sally, the Reverend Hurley, and The Stranger, who looked both amused and satisfied though he kept his face straight benefiting a funeral, were left. When John Gray finally moved he plowed along so fast his wife gave up trying to keep pace. She followed along and The Stranger brought up the rear. By the time they reached home, John had slowed enough for them to catch him and they all walked up the drive together. Halfway to the house they stopped.
On the ground, face down with a knife in his back, was the body of a man. After a startled minute, the men bent over him. He was dead, but had not been dead very long. They turned him on his side and Sally caught her breath.
The man was David Gray.
Sheriff Anson Hawk bent over the body, but he looked at the ground. John had called Tommy from the field and sent him after the Sheriff.
"Too many tracks here. No tellin which belong to somebody that don't live here." He straightened up. "If any of 'em do."
"What do you mean by that.?" John said.
"Everybody knows you didn't get along with your brother. I'd say you might want him dead before he got wind of Mary marryin' Hugh Gregory, and that butcher knife come out of your kitchen."
"I couldn'ta done it. I was at the funeral," John said.
"Mebbe you done it afore you left. Yer own boy said you came back."
"Well--- Well--- maybe he done it," John said, pointing to the strangers. "he came back, too."
"That so?" The Sheriff asked. "Yes, sir, it is," The Stranger said. Sheriff Hawk waited.
"And?" "And, what?" The Stranger asked. "Did you kill him?"
"No. I went back for a couple of letters. They're here in my pocket." He took them out and handed them the Sheriff.
"Spencer, Burgdorn, and Hewitt, Lawyers," Sheriff Hawk read from the first. Then he turned the other one over. "David Gray." "You wrote to my brother? Why?" John asked. "He sent me here."
It is very likely that was more deep thinking went on in and around Deer Lick, Missouri that night than ever before.
John Gray was thinking about his luck. Wouldn't you just know it, Dave would up and die after Mary got herself hitched. Mary had always been a dutiful daughter, and would have given him the money if he told her to before, but he could not count on that now. Hugh loved her, and he probably would not have refused her if she had asked for his money to help her family, but John's opposition to the marriage was fresh on both their minds. He wouldn't stand a chance now. If The Will was real, then Mary had everything now. She had Dave's money AND Hugh's money and he, John Gray, had none of it. Something had gone very wrong with his plans.
Sally Gray's thoughts were of Mary's marriage. Sally was more than happy for her daughter. Mary had a husband who would be good and kind and move heaven and earth to make her happy. Sally could want no more for her daughter. Hugh had money, too, which meant that Mary would not have to work so hard in the future. Sally had never minded the hard work of the farm. It took her mind off the things she did not have, like the love and devotion she had dreamed of as a child, but she had always wanted something better for her children. Now, Mary was happily married, well provided for, and Tommy would soon be able to make his own way. Yes, life was good for Sally Gray that night.
Hugh Gregory lay in his bed with his wife, pleased that they had finally walked in the front door instead of sneaking in the back, content that she would not have to get up and leave before dawn. Still, he had put in quite a day, and his mind would not rest. It is never easy to bury a loved one. He knew his father had guessed that he and Mary were married, but he regretted that they had not been able to announce their marriage before he died. He had never hated Mary's father for what he had done, his own parents had taught him about forgivness, but he had been plenty mad at him every time they sneaked out at daybreak. And, he found himself unaccountably resentful of Mary's Uncle Dave and that dam Will of his. Of course, Hugh and David Gray never did get along, for reasons of their own, but every time he had watched Mary hurrying hack to her father's house when she should have been with him, he found himself wishing that David Gray had found a woman who would tolerate him and had a child of his own to leave his money to. Anyway, he was dead now, and good riddance. Hugh wondered if anybody really mourned David Gray's passing.
Mary Gray Gregory rested her head on her husband's shoulder, thinking over the events of the day. Where she had found the strength to defy her father, she would never know. She had been Hugh's wife for the last four months, and they should have been together. Dam Uncle Dave's money, anyway. She didn't want it, and if not for that Will, she and Hugh could have had a pretty church wedding with the blessing of their friends and family. Forrest could have had the daughter he wanted. And, they would not have had to sneak around like they had. But, she had finally told, and she was glad, and it didn't really matter anyway, with Uncle Dave dead and all.
The Stranger lay in his bed that night wondering exactly what he felt about all the happenings. He shared more than a room with Tommy Gray. He, too, had seen his first corpse today, and it was unsettling to say the least. He had never met David Gray and could not say how he felt about the man's passing, but he wished he had not come up on the body. He supposed it had to happen, sooner or later. He was twenty-five years old, it was only luck that he had not seen a body before. A young lawyer working in a city as big as Joplin, Missouri wasn't likely to come up on corpses very often if he stayed out of the saloons. He looked toward the window where he had watched as Mary slipped out every morning to be with her husband. There would be no more sneaking around for her. She was right where she belonged. Tomorrow it would all be sorted out, though who killed David Gray might just be a mystery forever. He heard Tommy stir, an unusual occurrence because the boy worked hard from sunup to sundown and when he finally took to his bed he usually lay still and slept. Still, if seeing that body was keeping a man of twenty-five awake, what must it be doing to a boy of twelve?
Tommy Gray may have been the only person in Deer Lick trying not to think that night. If he could just go to sleep, maybe the strange events of the day would leave him alone. Maybe he could forget about the things he had seen and heard, like Uncle Dave's lifeless body, or Sheriff Hawk talking like The Stranger or Pa killed him, and that Mary wasn't coming back. Tommy trembled anew at the memories. His Pa hadn't killed Uncle Dave, even though he knew they hated each other, and The Stranger hadn't, either, he knew that, too. He turned over again and closed his eyes.
At first light the next morning, Tommy milked the cows and gathered the eggs because Mary was not there to do it. Then, he hitched up the mules and drove away to the hayfield. The Stranger watched him go. He wouldn't bet Tommy had slept a whole hour all night long. He wondered that the boy had the strength to work, but it was probably easier than listening to all that would be talked over today.
As promised, Sheriff Hawk arrived at 7:00 with half a dozen men from town. Sally had breakfast ready, and everyone sat down except the Reverend Hurley.
"No, I can't stay," said he, taking a biscuit and spreading it generously with jam. "I just came out to see about the funeral service."
"Far as I'm concerned, we don't need no funeral," said John whose appetite was not in the least affected by the loss of his brother. "Just put him in the ground."
"Oh, John, he must have a funeral," Sally said. "It ain't Christian not to."
"Well, do what you like, then," John said, "only send for his money. I ain't buryin' him."
The Stranger ate very little. He used his time wisely, observing the others. Besides the preacher, there was Banker Albert Collins, Dr. Wingate, Fenton Carlson, the Gray's nearest neighbor, and Harley Jarwood, the undertaker. He knew why the undertaker and preacher were there, he could only guess about the others.
"Now," said the Sheriff when he had eaten his fill, "let' s see if we can sort this out. John, you tell me what happened."
"Like I told you yesterday, we started out to the funeral, me and the wife and Mary and The Stranger, here, and he come back for his letters, then I thought about the hayrake and came back to tell Tommy to be careful of it 'cause it's about to break. Then, I went on and caught up with the others and we went to town."
"Tommy didn't attend the funeral?" asked Banker Collins. "'Course not. A boy his age," John said in disgust. He didn't like Albert Collins in the first place and he didn't like feeding him breakfast when he had more money than John would ever have.
"Then, when you come home..." Sheriff Hawk prompted.
"There he was. With my butcher knife in his hack."
"Hmm. Well, Stranger, what's your story?" The Sheriff asked.
"As they were leaving the house, I remembered my letters so I went back to get them. I wasn't five minutes behind them. I caught up to the women, then Mr. Gray joined us and we went to town."
"You said yesterday that David Gray sent you here."
"He did."
"But, you said you didn't know him."
"We never met."
"How could he send you here if you didn't know him?'
"I'm a lawyer working for Spencer, Burgdom, and Hewitt in Joplin. Mr. Gray hired us to make his will and see that everything was carried out properly. That meant sending somebody here."
"You know what's in The Will?" John asked.
"Yes."
"Who gets the money?"
"I can't read the will until after he's buried. And, the whole family has to be present."
"Preacher, let's have that funeral this afternoon," John said. "The rest of you, clear out. You done had all the coffee you're going to get."
They filed out, stopping in the kitchen to thank Sally. The Doctor was last, and he inquired about the family.
"Yes, and she's doing just fine. Had a little dizzy spell last evening, but that's to be expected of course. I told her to be careful and look for it around New Year's."
"Look for what?" Sally asked.
"Why, the baby. Mary's expecting."
It must be stated here that, if Sally had not been in full possession of her own teeth she would have dropped them right out onto the floor. The good Doctor, having delivered his news, proceeded out into the warm July morning. The Stranger stood on the porch, watching the men ride away. The preacher remained to talk about the funeral, the Doctor climbed into his buggy, and the Sheriff rode along side as they talked. The banker was nowhere to be seen, and The Stranger thought that strange, as his horse was still tied to the rail. The outhouse door was open, so it was not likely he was there. Several questions began to form in The Stranger's mind:
Why had the banker come out here today? Why would he have asked about Tommy attending the funeral? Wasn't he standing fight beside the Doctor when Sally said Tommy was in the hayfield? And, was it just seeing the body that upset Tommy so, or was there more to it? The Stranger turned toward the hayfield.
Tommy Gray followed the mules, but paid no attention to the work. He had not slept, but was not tired. He was scared and nervous and he wished he could run away, but had no idea where to go. When he turned the mules at the end of the field, he shrank back. Banker Collins was standing there. "Morning, Tom," he said amiably. "Momin'?'
"Nice day for making hay."
"Yes, sir."
"I guess you got it all cut yesterday, while the folks were at the funeral." "Yes." "But, you couldn't get it raked."
"No."
"Too much going on, I suppose."
"Yes."
"I expect you were here when it all happened!"
"Yes."
"So you saw it all.'?"
If Tommy had looked up, he would have seen Banker Collins take the knife out of his pocket. In the next instant, Banker Collins had Tommy's arms pinned and the knife at his throat.
"That'll be enough."
The voice startled them both. The banker turned, taking Tommy with him. "Why...hello, Stranger," he said. "What are you doing out here?"
"Following you." There was nothing pleasant in The Stranger's voice, or in the hand that held his pistol.
"I was just checking on young Tom, here," the banker said without moving.
"I can see that. Turn him loose and throw down that knife."
"Oh, we were just playing around," the banker said.
''No, you weren't." The stranger leveled his gun and took aim. "Do as I say."
"Or what? A city boy like you wouldn't shoot a rabbit."
"You're not a rabbit. And, I've been handling a gun since I was eight. I'm going to shoot you between the eyes in about ten seconds if you don't do as I said."
There was no doubt that The Stranger meant it. The banker dropped the knife and backed away from Tommy.
"Tom, pick up the knife," The Stranger said, never taking his eyes or his gun from the banker. "And you, get walking."
"I come back to the house for a piece of leather to bind up the rake and they was arguing there by the back door. Something about $40,000 and a farm," Tommy said when they were seated at the table with the Sheriff a little later. "Uncle Dave told him he wouldn't give money to a worse scoundrel than he was himself and Banker Collins said he'd just take whatever he could get and then he reached in and got the knife off the counter in the kitchen and stabbed Uncle Dave in the back. He took the money out of Uncle Dave's pockets and the watch off his vest and rode off. I was in the barn."
"He owed me that money and more," Banker Collins said, but no one cared. Sheriff Hawk led him away.
David Gray was buried with a prayer and a hymn that afternoon. There were few in attendance, only the family and Hugh, the preacher and his wife, and the Sheriff. After the funeral, they returned to John Gray's house and The Stranger, at last, opened The Will.
"I, David Gray, having a sound mind and body, will my estate as follows:
"To my niece, Mary Gray, one half of all my property and money except the farm East of Joplin. She gets this on the condition that she be allowed to marry whoever she chooses, even that no account Hugh Gregory, if that's what she wants.
"To my nephew, Tom Gray, I leave the rest, including the farm mentioned before. He gets this on his twenty-first birthday, unless he is married first, and then he can have the farm to live on, if he wants to or to sell and buy his own place somewhere else. If he wants to go to college somewhere, he can have enough to do that, but the rest he gets after he turns twenty-one. Until then, his share is to be held in a trust under the direction of Mr. Popofolongras." The Stranger looked up. "That's me.
"To my brother, John, I leave nothing. None of my money is to support him or his place in any way as long as he lives. I heard all about his interfering with Mary and Hugh just to get my money, and I don't like it. If his wife Sally manages to outlive him, his children can take her in and help her any way they want to. I hope that might make up for the life she had with John.
Signed
David Gray
October 19, 1876.
