The Long Road Home. Mary Monroe Alice

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      “Barn looks good,” Seth said. His smile was brief.

      C.W. was always stunned to note how many of Seth’s teeth were missing. “Thanks.”

      “Yeh-up. Can’t work a farm when the tools are rusted.”

      “Nope,” C.W. replied. He enjoyed giving the short rejoinders as much as Seth did hearing them. Seth started at hitching his pants again.

      “Something I can do for you, Seth?”

      Seth looked off at the ewes awhile. “You were acting strange up there with the missus,” Seth said at last.

      Here we go, thought C.W. “How so?”

      “Like you knew her.”

      C.W. skipped a beat. “Nope. I never met her.”

      Seth screwed up his eyes.

      Cagey old bird, thought C.W. with affection. He held his tongue, however, knowing his silence could outlast even Seth’s patience.

      “Silence is a wonderful thing, son,” Seth said after a spell of watching three hens peck the corn. “But it’s a far cry from secrets.”

      C.W. kicked the dirt and stared at his dusty boot. “I never met her,” he said quietly.

      Seth nodded, knowing it was the truth.

      C.W. ran his hand through his hair with a long sigh.

      “Well, I guess I was hard on her for a while there. Skinny New York women have a way of getting on my nerves.” He was relieved to hear Seth chuckle. “From what I know of MacKenzie, she’s going to be a real pain.”

      “What you know of MacKenzie?”

      Clever man, mused C.W. “I know what I hear. Let’s see, from you I heard he was ornery as a mule and late to pay his bills. From the boys I heard he was short on charm and long on demands, and from Esther…” He paused. “I get mixed messages from Esther. I gather she both hates him and, dare I say, admires him?”

      Seth rubbed his jaw again. C.W. sensed an untold story there. Seth looked away for a moment, but when he swung his head back, his face flattened to a deadpan.

      C.W. went back to his hay. He hadn’t thrown more than three forkfuls before he heard Seth’s voice again.

      “You workin’ up a frenzy today,” Seth said.

      “Lot of delays,” he grunted between pitches. “Lot to get done before the sun sets.”

      “Lot of thinkin’, seems to me.”

      C.W. slowed, stopped, and peered over his shoulder once again. Seth was standing with his hands in his rear pockets and one foot slightly before the other. His eyes were boring into him.

      “When a boil starts to fester, it’s time to stop everything and clean it. Else it spreads and ruins you. Makes you mean and ugly and you hurt bad all the time.”

      “Just what is it you think I need to clean out, Seth?”

      Seth gummed a bit, holding back. “Reckon you know that best, son. But I do know that you’ve been festering for months now and it looks like its comin’ to a head. Might be time to tend to it, that’s all I’m saying.”

      A quiet pall settled in the barn. C.W. leaned on his fork while staring at the ewes. They stared right back at him, as though waiting for his response.

      C.W. shook his head and dug his fork into the ground. Festering was the word for it. Perhaps it was time to purge. He trusted Seth, both his wisdom and his silence. Running his hand in his hair, he approached Seth.

      “I never met Mrs. MacKenzie,” he began slowly. “But I knew Mike.”

      Seth’s eyes widened.

      “Everyone on Wall Street knew the ‘Big Mac.’ Mac, the big dealer. Mac, the big spender. There was this inside joke, spawned by jealousy: ‘Have you heard today’s Mac Deal?’”

      He looked up at Seth. The old man wasn’t smiling.

      “MacKenzie was this ruddy, handsome fellow with a loud, confident laugh and a firm handshake,” C.W. continued. “People enjoyed gathering around him and listening to the ribald stories that he told with professional skill. But his eyes were cold and calculating.

      “At least he was honest about it,” added C.W., kicking the dirt. “Mike wanted to make money. And boy did he. Some called him a genius. Others called him a shark. He had an instinct for the kill and devoured businesses and swallowed profits in huge gulps. And that was business.” He shrugged. “I saw him as a highly leveraged con artist.”

      “I guess I ain’t surprised you’re some kind of money man, the way you handle numbers. Still, it makes me wonder. I know how MacKenzie left. Why’d you leave?” Seth asked.

      C.W. flinched, hearing in his mind the revolver’s retort, Mike’s blood blurring his vision again. His nose burned. His breath choked. C.W. wiped a shaky hand across his face, squeezing his eyelids tight. Then, suddenly, the answer came to him. A burst of clarity, after so many months of confusion. C.W. took a great gulp of air before speaking, more to himself than to Seth.

      “I don’t want a killer instinct.”

      C.W. didn’t move; he stared out of the barn with his hands in his hip pockets, while a muscle twitched in his broad jaw. From across the barn the sound of bleating was a staccato against the quiet dusk. Seth waited, giving C.W. the time he needed to clean out the wound.

      After a spell, C.W. blinked, absently stretched his shoulders, and turned toward Seth, a sheepish look on his face.

      “I suspect the boil burst.”

      “Yeh-up.” Seth shifted his weight. “Speakin’ on MacKenzie. The missus, she ain’t nothing like the mister.”

      “Oh? How is she different?”

      “She’s a sad one. Used to wonder what made her so. When they first came up here she laughed all the time. Sweet thing, always comin’ down to the house with a gift from town or to buy more syrup from us than she’d ever use. They didn’t always have that big house. Nope. Used to camp up there before the building set up…and during. Some of them nights was cold enough to freeze water in a pail.”

      He shook his head and chuckled. “We used to credit it to love. And them being young, ’course. Heard he got pretty rich, real quick. Money can change a man.”

      C.W. felt a chill. “So I hear.”

      “Not her though. She was sweet as ever. But she started getting that sad look on her face, like a ewe what’s been left behind in the field.”

      “Then they just stopped coming up?”

      “Yeh-up. No word, no nothin’. Just stopped coming.” He shrugged. “I guess that’s the way it is with rich folks. Maybe they just get bored. Still…” СКАЧАТЬ