All Men Fear Me (5 page)

Chapter Ten

“Come On Boys, Do Your Duty: Enlist!”

—U.S. Army propaganda poster, 1917

Alafair had filled Rob's arms with a pile of pillows and quilts so high that Gee Dub thought he'd have to lead his uncle to the toolshed like a blind man.

The night was brisk and cool, with a fresh gusty breeze that drove tattered clouds across the face of the moon. “Look, there's a ring around the moon, sport.” Rob's voice was muffled by a pillow. “I reckon it'll rain before long.”

“Why are you so dead set against the war, Uncle Robin?”

They were halfway across the yard when Gee Dub asked his unexpected question. Rob stopped walking and eyed his nephew over the blankets.

Gee Dub continued. “Mama told us that you ran away to join the Army yourself when you were just about the same age as me. You must have wanted to.”

“Oh, I did. I was just like Charlie, all piss and vinegar. I was wild to charge right up San Juan Hill with old Teddy. I was just a little squirt, not big and well-grown like you, hotshot, but I found a recruiter in Little Rock who was looking to fill his quota for that month, and he signed me up. My daddy could have had me mustered out for being underage, but he said I had made my bed and I could lie in it. I figure he knew I'd just run off again, and besides, I'd have been old enough the next year, anyway. By the time I finished basic, the Cuban part of the Spanish War was over. They sent me to the Philippines. I spent the next six years of my life wrestling with malaria and foot rot, wading through swamps, picking leeches off myself, and trying not to get my head chopped off by some scrawny little stinker with a big machete.

“I never did know why we were there. The Filipinos were glad to get rid of the Spanish, but they never did cotton to trading one master for another, and wanted us out of there just as bad. Those Moro tribesmen were about as big as a minute, but they sure scared the liver out of me. We all knew that it was better to blow your own brains out with your service pistol than to let yourself get captured.”

“Sounds like the Apaches.” Gee Dub was a lover of Zane Grey novels.

Rob shrugged. “At least you maybe could see the Apaches coming across the desert and eat a bullet before they got you.”

“I think this is different, though, Uncle Robin. The Spanish weren't after ruling the world, but the Germans are. And in the end I'm an American, and when my country calls, I'm going, all right.”

Rob broke eye contact and looked out over the dark expanse of Alafair's garden. “You looking to kill some Huns, too?” His tone was neutral, but Rob wasn't best pleased by the announcement.

“They'll take me or I'll go of my own accord like I've got a choice in the matter.” Gee Dub delivered this piece of information as a plain statement of fact. “I expect whatever we think about this war, we're all going to have to get behind it. It's win or die, now.”

“Well, Gee, each of us has to follow our conscience as best we can. I'd hate to think that we might lose the thing that makes America different than all the other countries—the right to say what we think.”

After a brief, awkward pause, Gee Dub said, “So you don't have a good opinion of Army life?”

Rob's expression when he looked back at Gee Dub was oddly compassionate. He knew the young man was anxious to hear something comforting. Rob wracked his brain for a moment. “Well, Army life ain't so bad. They feed you pretty good, and you get as fond of your comrades as if they was your own brothers. And when you're all decked out in your military finery, the ladies think you cut quite a dash.” Rob was glad to hear his nephew snort a laugh. He turned and began walking again. “You told your mama yet?”

“No. I figure I'll tell Daddy first. Don't look forward to telling Mama.”

Now it was Rob's turn to laugh. “I reckon not.”

***

The beds in the toolshed bedroom were basic, but comfortable. In fact, Alafair had made Gee Dub's “bachelor quarters” into a place that Rob wouldn't mind calling home himself. The furniture was mostly recycled and threadbare, but serviceable and clean. Rob was glad to see that the two cots had iron bedsteads, which made it more difficult for bedbugs to get a foothold. He had spend many an itchy night in bunkhouses and two-bit hotels. Considering the number of animals around the Tucker farm, fleas were still a possibility. But the floor was scrubbed raw and the room smelled vaguely of lye water. If he knew his fastidious sister, vermin steered clear of her domain in fear of their lives. The handmade horsehair mattresses looked new, tufted to hold the filling in place and the edges hand-stitched together. A painted wooden table with two chairs graced the center of the room. A washstand with a pitcher and chipped basin, small chest of drawers, and a Franklin stove in one corner completed the furnishings. There was one window on the back wall, wide open because of the heat. For privacy Alafair had strung curtains made from two worn calico aprons on a leather strap.

“Your ma has fixed this place up nice,” he observed to Gee Dub.

Gee Dub cast a critical glance around. “It's home, for the moment at least. Dad made this room up a few years ago so there'd be a place for hired hands to stay, if they needed to. Right now everybody who works for him has his own bunk somewhere else. Handy for me.” He gestured toward the table. “Fling your rucksack yonder, Uncle Robin. There are a couple of hooks on the wall there if you want to hang anything up.”

Rob made up the spare bed, stripped down to his skivvies, and slid between the quilt and the sheets that Alafair had given him. The pillow was filled with goose feathers and the pillowcase and sheet smelled of herbs. He nearly wept at the luxury of it all.

Chapter Eleven

“Food Gamblers Raise Price of Canned Goods”

—
Chicago Tribune
, April 1917

As soon as the men left for the fields after breakfast, Alafair hitched up her gragoy mare, Missy, to the buggy and sat Grace beside her for a trip into town to run errands. On the way she stopped by her daughter Mary's house long enough tickle baby Judy and ask Mary to a family supper tonight. Alafair's seven-year-old nephew Chase Kemp begged to come to town with them. Grace and Chase Kemp were a handful when they were together, but Grace whined for her adored older cousin to be allowed to come, so Alafair loaded him into the backseat and off they went.

Aram Khouri, the proprietor of Khouri's Market, was a compact, dark-haired man of about forty, friendly and kind, with large, moist black eyes that reminded Alafair of her son-in-law John Lee's. Mr. Khouri had an equally attractive wife named Ana and three young children, as well as a fat, garrulous, child-friendly father who lived with them. The Khouris were recent additions to Boynton's fast-growing population, having only lived in town for a couple of years. Alafair had no idea where they were from originally, only that they had bought the market from Mr. Haddad when he retired. They resided in a large apartment above the store, and the whole family, from the seventy-year-old grandfather to the six-year-old baby of the family, pitched in at the market to clean, stock, and wait on customers.

It was Aram himself who was behind the counter today, and he broke into a beaming grin when he recognized Alafair Tucker, her pert little daughter Grace, and her nephew Chase Kemp.

“Hello, Miz Tucker, hello. Why, you're looking pretty, Grace. And Chase! How you've grown since last week! What can I do for you today, Miz Tucker? Don't get to see you so much since the food rules went into effect. I swear, even the townfolks are growing their own vegetables and meat these days.”

Chase tugged on his aunt's skirt before she could reply. “Can I go outside?”

“All right, but don't wander off. Stay where I can see you.”

Chase sped off and Grace tried to follow, but Alafair caught her by the collar and lifted the giggling little girl into her arms. Leaving Grace below eye-level was an invitation for her to get into mischief. “Have the new food rules hurt your business, Mr. Khouri?”

“It's different, Miz Tucker. I buy folks' extra that they grew too much of, and sell it to somebody that grew a bunch of something else. Better that way than when the war first started and all the housewives here in town were hoarding canned goods. Why, for a month or so there, I couldn't keep anything on the shelves. I could have charged three times the price and they'd have paid. Never would do it, though. It's evil to take advantage of people's fear. Still, I have to charge an outlandish price just to break even!” He leaned over the counter and his voice dropped. “Sometimes I just trade one thing for another—a chicken for a peck of peas, that kind of thing. Don't know if that's a thing to be doing, but in these times I think we've got to help one another however we can.”

“Sounds like a patriotic way to do business, to my mind.” Alafair felt a small pang of guilt, since she was one of those who was growing her own and no longer buying extra. It seemed like you couldn't do even the best-intentioned thing without affecting someone in a way you didn't anticipate.

“What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mr. Khouri repeated.

“I came into town to pick up mail and visit with my daughters and my grandbaby for a spell, but I figured that while I'm here, I may as well come by and see if you have some round steak for sale today. I'm fixing to cook up a special dinner today and I expect that a bit of beef would fill the bill. We don't much partake of beef these days.”

“Well, you're in luck! I just bought a whole beef from Mr. Eichelberger this very morning. He's been raising calves to sell to the co-op but I talked him into selling one to me for the benefit of his hard-working neighbors.”

“I know beef isn't that easy to come by these days. I hope it isn't too expensive or I'll have to revise my plans.”

“I can let you have some nice bottom round steak for twenty cents a pound.”

She sucked in a breath. “That's dear.”

“Is this for a special occasion?”

She hesitated. As a union organizer, Rob was a divisive figure, but she knew that the longer Rob stayed with them the harder it was going to be to keep his presence a secret. She had too many gabby children to keep anything under wraps for long. But under the circumstances, there was no reason to go out of her way to advertise the fact that he was visiting. “We've been so austere lately that I reckon the family deserves a nice meal. Besides, we have a birthday coming up.” Not really a fib. With ten children, in-laws, and grandchildren, somebody's birthday was always coming up.

Khouri smiled and lifted a shoulder. “Like you said, beef is hard to come by these days. But since it's a special occasion, I'll let you have it for eighteen cents a pound. How's that?”

“How about seventeen cents a pound and I'll bring you a half-dozen quarts of peaches I canned last month next time I'm in town?”

“Deal!” Khouri's eyes lit up. He disappeared into the back room. Alafair heard the mechanical creak of the refrigerator door, the rustling of paper and a couple of thumps, before Mr. Khouri reappeared with the back end of a side of beef flung over his shoulder. He clunked it onto the marble cutting surface, pulled a cleaver from under the counter, and hacked the bottom round away from the bone. He picked up a long, wicked, carving knife. “How much you want, Miz Tucker?”

“I'm tempted to take the whole round, Mr. Khouri. You know what a herd of folks I have to feed. I'll cut the steaks myself.”

He carved an enormous slab off the bone and wrapped the meat in a piece of butcher paper. “How's the family, Mr. Khouri?” Alafair asked,

“Oh, doing very well, thank you, ma'am. We're starting to feel right at home here. The children have made so many friends at school. Nathan will be starting fifth grade next year. I can hardly believe it! He's been selling more Liberty Stamps to customers here in the store than I have! Oh, I love the West! So much more opportunity than back home!”

“Where did you move in from?”

“From Chicago. Such a big town, you wouldn't believe. My wife misses her family, of course, but we wouldn't go back to all that noise and crowds.”

“I'm glad you came out, Mr. Khouri. Thank you for the nice piece of meat.”

***

Old Nick treated himself to a sundae at Williams' Drug Store downtown, then took a leisurely stroll up and down the main thoroughfare, looking into the shop windows and killing time until dark. He had big plans for the evening, for he figured that Rose's place would be hopping at around midnight. And her customers were likely to be just the kind of men who could be tempted to avail themselves of Nick's special talents.

But it was a long while until midnight, so Nick used the time to look around and see if any other opportunities presented themselves. The street was busy, and it wasn't hard for him to lose himself in the crowd. Most of the housewives, businessmen, and overalls-clad farmers that he passed were plain, decent people who held no interest for him. After an hour or so he was ready to find someplace to hole up and wait for dark. Until a round, natty man in a black suit came out of a door marked “W.E. Clare Insurance Agency, Upstairs.” The face was pinched and anxious, sporting hectic red cheeks. He clutched a sheaf of papers in his hand. The round man kept his eyes on the sidewalk as he hurried up the street, thinking his own thoughts, until he came upon Khouri's market and looked up sharply. He stood outside for a moment, carefully inspecting the signs Khouri had posted in his window. The price of a peck of green beans, a pound of butter, quart of sweet cream.

The round man's mouth grew more pursed by the second as he scanned the window. Finally he drew himself up and marched inside, followed by a big-eyed, buck-toothed little boy who had been playing on the sidewalk.

Old Nick sucked in a satisfied breath and let it out. It looked like he would have plenty to keep himself amused this afternoon.