All Men Fear Me (6 page)

Chapter Twelve

“I am glad to join you in the service of food conservation for our Nation and I hereby accept membership in the United States Food Administration, pledging myself to carry out the directions and advice of the Food Administration in my home, in so far as my circumstances permit.”

—Housewife's pledge card,
United States Food Administration, 1917

Mr. Khouri and Alafair turned to see who had entered the store. Alafair smiled, but Mr. Khouri drooped when he recognized the plump, well-dressed man steaming toward them. Chase Kemp had followed the man in, copying his hurried stride and determined expression with such verve that Alafair had some trouble keeping a straight face. Grace had no such compunction and shrieked out a laugh. Alafair put her down and gave her a shove toward the door before the girl could say something undiplomatic. “You children wait for me outside. And stay on the sidewalk.” Her tone dissuaded the two children from trying to argue. They were gone in a flash.

“Good day, Mr. Clover,” Khouri said. His greeting wasn't as enthusiastic as it might have been.

Emmanuel Clover nodded a businesslike greeting. “Mr. Khouri, Mrs. Tucker.”

Khouri crossed his arms. “What can I do for you?”

Alafair sensed a frisson of ill-will between the two men, which surprised her. She had always found both Mr. Clover and Mr. Khouri to be pleasant men.

“I notice that you haven't posted the Food Administration's list of austerity days,” Clover said.

Khouri shot a thumb over his left shoulder. “There it is right there, Mr. Clover. Right behind the counter for anyone to see.”

Mr. Clover looked as if he'd just had a big gulp of vinegar, Alafair thought. And Mr. Khouri's face had taken on a formidable cast.

“Well, it should be in the front window, as well,” Emmanuel Clover said.

Alafair had hoped that if she stood very still Clover would forget her and she could eavesdrop long enough to determine the cause of the unpleasantness between the two men. But her hopes were dashed when Clover turned toward her. His expression lightened and he smiled. “So nice to see you, Mrs. Tucker. Have you already signed your pledge card?”

“Long ago, Mr. Clover.”

“Have you heard? The results of the draft lottery will be posted at the Masonic Hall next Friday after the Liberty Sing. I hope you and your family come into town to join the festivities, Mrs. Tucker. Your sons can learn if their numbers have been called.”

A “Liberty Sing” was held in the Boynton Masonic Hall every other Saturday afternoon. But this one had been moved up to Friday evening to correspond with the draft lottery. Mr. Kirby, owner of the
Index
newspaper, was sending a reporter to Muskogee to wire the results of the drawing back to Boynton so no one would have to wait for his official draft notice in the mail. This would be the third Liberty Sing the town had held since war was declared, and was as necessary an event for the locals to attend as Sunday church service. The way feelings were running, no one could afford to be counted absent.

“We'll be at the Liberty Sing, but my sons are both too young for the draft.” She felt her heart pick up a beat at the very thought of either of them being conscripted.

Clover's eyebrows shot up. “Indeed? I would have thought at least the older one—G.W., isn't it?—had passed his twenty-first birthday.”

“Not yet…” she said. She didn't add that Gee Dub's twenty-first birthday was in less than six weeks.

“Well! He shouldn't despair. I don't doubt that there will be another draft within a few months. Besides, any young man over eighteen years of age can volunteer for service, with his parents' permission. Your sons will no doubt do your clan proud.”

Alafair felt her cheeks grow warm. She cast a glance at Mr. Khouri before she answered. He looked as uncomfortable with the topic of conversation as she felt. “I'm already proud of them, Mr. Clover. How is that sweet girl of yours these days?”

Clover's business-like demeanor melted away entirely at the mention of his daughter. “Forsythia Lily is fine as maple sugar, thank you for asking. Since I have taken on this important war work she has been residing with her grandmother. I do miss her dearly, but my duty to this great country must come first. I feel everyone should do his part. Our very lives are at stake, you know.” A flash of fear crossed his face, and Alafair thought, he really believes that. Clover turned back to Khouri and resumed his stern expression. “I'll bring an extra poster by for you later today. Do you have plenty of pledge cards on hand?”

Khouri pointed them out on the edge of the counter. “I do.”

“You must be very diligent, Mr. Khouri. Those who are not native-born run the risk of being seen as insufficiently patriotic to their adopted country.”

Khouri drew a sharp breath and straightened, but before he could reply, Grace appeared at the open door of the shop. Since she had been instructed to stay outside, she hollered at the top of her lungs. “Ma! Chase is sticking his toe in the street!”

Alafair clapped a hand to her heart. “Mercy! Grace, come here and quit that bellowing.”

Mr. Clover stifled a laugh. “I take that as a cue that I must be going. Good afternoon Mrs. Tucker. Mr. Khouri.”

After he had gone, Khouri snorted. “I'm quite native-born, thank you.”

Alafair grabbed Grace by the arm and brought the child to heel. “Why, Mr. Khouri, whatever has happened between you and Mr. Clover?” she asked, ignoring Grace's protests. “I didn't know there was bad feeling between you. Mr. Clover has always been a man of great goodwill, though I think that the death of his wife has affected him sorely.”

Khouri was not offended by her inquiry. “There didn't used to be ill-will between us, Miz Tucker. But since he joined up with the Council of Defense it seems he's made it his life's work to keep an eye on my family. He bothers the other merchants, too, it's true, but not like me.” He paused and sighed. “At least he's not like the other agent, that Avey fellow. Now, he's a bully if ever I saw one.”

Alafair was barely aware of Grace tugging to escape her mother's grip or of Chase Kemp standing just outside the door, making faces at his cousin. “But why would they bother you in particular, Mr. Khouri?”

Khouri was surprised that she should ask. “I have a ‘foreign' name and I talk different from you, Miz Tucker, and my father was born in the old country. It seems that is reason enough to suspect me and all my kin of sedition.”

“Well, that doesn't seem fair.”

Khouri smiled at her innocence. “Fair doesn't come into it, not in my experience.”

***

As soon as he saw the round man step out onto the street from Khouri's Market, Old Nick caught his mood from all the way across the street. The round man had been determined when he went inside, and now he was determined, worried, and afraid. Nick didn't know what the man was afraid of, but fear shimmered around him like heat rising from a fire. Something inside the market scared him, something he wished would go away. But was he afraid enough to want what Nick had to offer?

Chapter Thirteen

“The whole nation must be a team, in which each man shall play the part for which he is best fitted.” 

—President Woodrow Wilson

Shaw Tucker led a newly broken mule into the barn. Breaking mules to the saddle was hot, tiring work, and he wasn't as young as he used to be. Rob Gunn was in the corral with a yearling. Once Rob had gotten his legs under him again, he had turned out to be a competent hand and a willing, cheerful helper. Rob may have been something of a gadfly, but Shaw had always admired anyone who had the courage to go his own way.

As soon as he entered the barn, he heard Charlie's voice coming from the corner stall. He was talking to the white-maned roan. Judging by the bumps and thumps and the tone of the boy's voice, Shaw decided that Charlie was pleading with the horse to hold still and let himself be saddled.

Shaw didn't interfere. He stabled the mule and wiped it down, listening with a mixture of exasperation and amusement as Charlie tried to wrangle the beast into a saddle. The horse was spoiled, that's what Shaw thought. He had too high an opinion of himself. His original owner, the late Jubal Beldon, may have been a poor excuse for a human being, but he treated that horse like a king, keeping him brushed and polished and trimmed smooth as satin. Shaw was of the opinion that it wasn't good for an animal or a child to think he could get away with doing whatever took his fancy. The animal had to know who was boss, or he'd have nothing but trouble all his life long. Charlie loved him. The boy had always wanted a gorgeous piece of horseflesh, but he had hoped to own one who minded him.

Unfortunately, the white-maned roan had his own ideas.

Shaw was heading out the door when Charlie climbed over the stall gate, sweating but undefeated. He jumped down when he saw his father and strode over to him, ablaze with purpose. “Daddy, I hear that they're putting on an extra shift at the brick plant.”

Shaw shot him a mild glance over his shoulder before he turned around. “I heard that too. Mr. Ober is upping production because of the war.”

“They're doing the same at the Boynton Pool, too. The Army needs all the oil it can get.”

Shaw crossed his arms, resigned. He could see where this was going. “So I hear.”

A moment of silence while Charlie took a breath. “I figured I'd get me one of them war jobs.”

He half expected Shaw to laugh and dismiss the idea out of hand. But he didn't. “You have a job, son. The Army needs mules as much as it needs oil and bricks, and I need you working for me here.”

Charlie almost said, “But you don't pay me.” He caught himself in time. It wouldn't help his case to give his father a pert response. “I got it all figured out, Daddy. The shift boss, Mr. Cooper, says that I can work a half shift, in the morning from six until noon. One day a week I could work a full shift. Then after work I'd be free to do my chores at home like I do now.”

Shaw was listening intently. “You've already talked to Mr. Cooper about this?”

“Yessir. I seen him at the mercantile a few days ago. That's when he mentioned he's looking for hands.”

“Have you fit any time to eat or sleep into this ambitious schedule?” Shaw sounded amused, which worried Charlie.

“I could do it, Daddy.” He was anxious to put his case. “I want to do everything I can. Besides, it's just temporary. Now that America is in it, the war will be over by Christmas.”

Shaw picked up a curry comb off the tool table and began to clean horse hair out of the grooming brush. “All right, if you think you can manage, go ahead on.”

Charlie blinked, hardly daring to believe his ears. “Really?”

“As long as you can keep up with your chores. If the quality of your work around the here suffers, that'll be the end of your clock-punching days. And I'll be the judge of that. When school starts, we'll revisit the situation. Do you agree to my terms?”

“I do! And just you wait and see, Daddy, I'll work twice as hard and get twice as much done.”

Chapter Fourteen

“I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier

I brought him up to be my pride and joy”

—Anti-war song lyric by Alfred Bryan, 1915

Shaw walked outside to cool off in the slight breeze. He stuffed his gauntlets into his back pocket and wiped his sweat-streaked face with his bandanna. He stretched until his back cracked. He had half a mind to walk up to the house and see if there was any pie left over from yesterday. He could see that Blanche was working in Alafair's truck garden, and he smiled. For a child as work-brittle as Blanche had always been, it pleased him to see how much she loved to garden. And Alafair's garden was a huge affair that took up most of a quarter acre at the back corner of the house. Blanche was squatting down among the rows of cornstalks, digging mulch into the soil at the base of the little mounds. The corn was finally putting on ears, though they were still green so late in the season. The pole beans growing up the stalks were bearing well, and the beans and pumpkins were vining out nicely.

Shaw stood and watched Blanche work, until he heard the rattle of the buggy coming up the drive. Alafair was finally back from town.

He started walking toward her, still thinking of pie, as she pulled up in front of the house and dismounted. Shaw's gait slowed. She would normally drive straight to the barn to unhitch the horse from the buggy. Something was on her mind.

And even if she hadn't varied from her usual practice, he could tell something was wrong, from her stance, from her expression, from the air around her. He was as sensitive to his wife's emotional weather as he was to Mother Nature's.

Alafair lifted Grace out of the seat and started for the house before she noticed Shaw coming up from the garden.

Grace clamored for her father to pick her up and he hoisted her to his hip. “What's going on?”

“I invited all the girls and their fellows to come out to dinner today. They all said they'd be pleased, but for Mary and Kurt, since they were here last night. Grace, get down, now. Run on up to the house and change out of your good dress.”

As soon as the child was out of earshot, Alafair answered Shaw's question. “This war business is all anybody can talk about in town. It's fretting me something awful. While I was at Khouri's Market, Emmanuel Clover came in and told Mr. Khouri that since he's foreign-born, he'd better be careful not to be seen doing anything that could be called unpatriotic. I couldn't help but get scared for Kurt and Mary, Shaw. And poor Mr. Khouri, who was born in Chicago, by the way, which last I heard was part of the United States of America. Why, I always liked Emmanuel Clover. How could he talk like that about his own neighbors? If even nice people can turn nasty like that, what about knuckleheads like Win Avey? Somebody around here is going to end up dead if this war doesn't end soon.”

Her tale concerned Shaw, too, but he wasn't about to let Alafair know it. “I'm sure folks will calm down directly, sugar. It's always the way that when something big happens, everybody gets all exercised about it, and then the first heat of the moment fades and things get back to normal. Remember what happened when the Spanish sank the
Maine
?”

“That was a mighty big flap,” she admitted.

“A big flap that didn't last long,” he reminded her. “Less than a year.”

Alafair shook her head. “Still, I wouldn't have wanted to be Spanish in that year.”

He put an arm around her shoulder. “And nobody cares about Cuba anymore.”

Alafair slipped her arm around his waist. “You remember the story my daddy told us about what his dad did when the War Between the States started? My grandfather told his sons that this fight was none of theirs, and he sent them back up in the Ozark hills to hide from recruiters and conscriptors of either side. He told them not come down until it was over. And they didn't.” She could tell by his expression that he understood why she was telling him this story.

“You know I won't do that, darlin'.” Shaw was firm, but gentle. “Gee Dub's a grown man and will make his own decision. There's nowhere to hide around here, anyway.”

“Maybe the war will be over before he's twenty-one.”

“Well, I hope so. I'm guessing there will be more lotteries, until they think they have a big enough Army. But even if he don't get called…you know Gee, sugar. Unless the war ends before he gets a chance, I expect he'll volunteer.” Even as he said it, his head was shaking a denial. He seized her arm. “But let's don't borrow trouble, honey. Even if he goes into the Army, that don't mean he'll have to go overseas.”

Alafair was grateful to him for trying to throw her a lifeline of hope, but she wasn't that naive. “He's a big, healthy, young fellow with no wife, and he can shoot the eyebrows off a gnat, Shaw. He's not as fired up as Charlie, or at least he don't show it, but you're right about him. If his friends and kinfolks have to go, he won't stand by.”

“No, he'll do his duty.”

His comment pricked her, and she shook his hand off, suddenly angry. “All you men keep saying that. ‘He'll do his duty.' Well, as far as I'm concerned, his duty is not to go haring off and get himself killed. And I'm right worried about Charlie, too. He's like to go off half-cocked and run away to join up.”

Shaw put a hand on her shoulder. “He's far too young to get called or to enlist, either. He can try but they won't take him.”

She scoffed at his naiveté. “He's tall for his age and the Army is desperate for soldiers. He's like to get away with it if nobody looks too close.”

“Alafair, young men are rash. No use to wish otherwise. Best just to try and stand back and let them grow out of it.” An image of Charlie in an Army uniform popped into Shaw's mind, and he shook his head to dislodge it. “And hope they don't kill themselves or somebody else before they do,” he added.

The fire went out of her suddenly, and she sagged. “Oh, Shaw, it's just hard. From the first time they opened their eyes, I've spent every minute of the kids' lives trying to keep them safe. When the war started it seemed too far away to do us any harm, but just lately, I've known that something bad is going to happen. There's a troubled spirit around here that wasn't around before. A fear, a horrible fear. I feel it.”

She untied her bonnet and took it off. She was staring at it when she began to speak again. “I remember that when the kids were little, I thought that if I could just keep them from killing themselves until they were big enough to take care of themselves, then I wouldn't be worrying about them so much.” She looked at him sidelong. “Turns out I had it backwards. When they were little, I had more charge over what happened to them. But now they're all about their own affairs, and there's nothing I can do about it.”

Shaw felt much the same way, but there was no use to wish things were different than they were. So he said, “That was the point, wasn't it, to get them where they could take care of themselves? That's the way of it. Pretty soon they'll be taking care of us.”

“Yes, I expect. I never figured it'd be this hard to let them go, though. Especially these boys. Up to now, we've given four girls over to a partner, so they can look out for each other.”

“That'll happen with the boys, too.”

“I hope so. But they're boys, and they'll do what all boys do before they become men. They'll put themselves in harm's way, and you and me both know there's no guarantee they'll come away unscathed. Or come away at all.”

Shaw nodded. She was right that boys had to go through their rite of passage. That was the natural way of things. He was too kind to say it to her, but he was proud that his boys didn't want to shirk their responsibility. This was a man's office, to stand between his loved ones and danger.

“Honey, nobody is guaranteed to live even through today. Every minute of life is in God's hands, so there's no use to fret over it.”

She smiled. “You're a better Christian than me, Shaw. I gave life to four boys, and God took two of them from me. I begrudge him another one. I'd fight God or the devil for them, if I had to.”

Maybe she was joking, but if Alafair and the devil went head to head for her sons, Shaw wouldn't have laid odds against her. Still, there was nothing more to say on the subject. “I have to go back to work, darlin'. I'll unhitch Missy for you.”

She nodded. “You want some pie before you go?”

Shaw smiled. She always could read his mind. “Yes, I do. Oh, and by the way, I told Charlie that he could take a part-time job at the brick plant until school starts. Mr. Cooper told him he could work the six a.m. shift.”

She had started for the house with her package of meat beneath her arm, but she stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “You told him he could do what? Why, he'll have to get himself on the road before dawn to get into town by six. And what about dinner? When's he going to eat?”

Alafair's reaction made Shaw laugh. “If he don't think he has enough time to eat breakfast at five with everybody else then he can eat leftover cornbread and buttermilk from the night before. Don't worry, honey. It'll be good for him. If he thinks he works hard now, he'll change his opinion right fast once he takes on a job at the plant on top of everything. Besides, it'll give him an opportunity to work off some of the ardent zeal he's developed lately. At worst he'll learn himself a lesson.”

“I declare, that boy will give me gray hair before my time.”

“He's sixteen, Alafair, and full of beans. He'll get over it soon enough.”

“I don't remember Gee Dub being such an imp when he was sixteen.”

“Gee Dub was born old. Besides, he's had an impish day or two, if you remember.”

“Well I just hope that if the war is still going in September, Charlie doesn't decide to quit school.”

“I don't think he will, since Gee Dub not only graduated from high school but went on to A&M. Since he was little, Charlie's wanted to do whatever Gee does.”

That was a true fact, and made Alafair feel a little better. Still… “He is old enough to quit school if he wants to, though.”

Shaw gave her arm a comforting squeeze. “I don't intend to let him know that is an option, darlin'.”