"Is that what we pay your salary for?" Judd asked, getting into his pickup and slamming the door.
Lucas kicked some gravel at his feet. "Stay out of ditches, Judd… Mrs. Gans." He tipped his Stetson and walked over to the admissions office to have a cup of coffee and jaw awhile with Tina. Tina was a good broad and, if he got her yakking, she'd give him all the dirt for a few miles around.
There had been too many foot prints around the den window outside the Gans' house. And a wood box had been dragged from the kitchen door to the window. The breaking and entering job looked like an amateur job and kind of hasty. Any burglar worth his salt would check a house carefully before trying to break in. Besides, he was pretty darn sure that there weren't any cat-burglars and the word was out that he was mean and unreasonable when it came to breaking and entering cases and his county was a good place to pass through without stopping.
And that girl in the camper was a stranger and that look she gave him told him she was in some kind of trouble. He swung into the admissions office with his Stetson slung low over his eyes, grinning at Tina with a freckled smile. "Tina, if you've changed your socks lately, I'll have a cup of that stuff you call coffee."
Latin Tina, fresh from a good workout the night before, lowered her long dark lashes and shook a shoulder at him. "Here's Lucas, the sweet-talking sheriff."
Lucas was right about Beth, she was in trouble. She had slept through the night and all the running and yelling and the gunshot like she was a stone. She had slept, exhausted even when Wilma had come back into the room and covered her more completely and hid the rubber dildoe she had so expertly brought the girl to orgasm with and straightened everything up. She had slept through Judd storming into the house soaking wet; she had slept through his profane harangue as he stood dripping in a puddle and shook his fist at whoever it was that had made such a fool of him.
She had slept, her only movement the deep, steady rise and fall of her breasts, until, near dawn, she had slowly opened her eyes and lay staring, wide awake, without moving. She stayed that way for a long time, staring up without moving or blinking. It was in her eyes, it was a kind of sun-seared look. She seemed to be staring inward rather than outward.
After lying still for a long time, she slowly looked around, accepting the reality of being in the den, a strange room, with a sad acceptance. It was true. It wasn't a dream. She got out of bed slowly, every muscle in her body aching, her head reeling. She draped herself in a blanket and walked to the window and stood shivering, with wild sad eyes, waiting for the sun to come up.
It came slowly, long shafts of sunlight striking across the fields and turning a low storm cloud on the horizon a deep purple edged by bright yellow. It seemed to swell and bulge on the horizon, turning orange and causing the fields to shimmer in heat waves. It was going to be a hot sunny day.
Suddenly, Beth was all desperate action. Soon the camp would be full of men going to work and she would be seen walking to her camper in a bathrobe. Or, she could wait until everyone was gone. She couldn't stay in the house that long. She never wanted to see the house or Wilma Gans again. She dressed hastily and stole through the house and out the door quietly, hurrying to her camper and only breathing a sigh of relief when she was safe inside her camper, the door shut and locked and the curtains drawn tight.
But her relief was only temporary. She fell on her cot and cried for a long time. Finally getting up and putting a cold rag on her face. Every person, as Sheriff Lucas Lamont wisely observed, has to let steam off one way or another. Nature takes over when we are faced with an emotional storm in our souls. We drink, or go into shock or go crazy. There is, in each person's life, a time when they are all alone, faced with grim facts. Such a moment is a test of character and will to survive. Beth was facing such a moment in her camper. Years of breeding and tradition were in her family. Her ancestors were those that faced the stern New England life and weather and emerged triumphant. Like seasoned combat troops, they had learned not to panic or retreat when the going got tough. Tenaciously, they dug in and held fast.
Such grit can't be inherited, science says, yet Beth felt a strength going way back in her family. In a state of shock, she stumbled around the camper, getting dressed and determined, in one way or another, to face the day, to get busy, occupy her mind, to work hard, giving herself completely to whatever she could find to do.
She forced her will to concentrate on her dress. She dressed in jeans and cowgirl boots with a blouse and a fringed frontier jacket. She was going to look neat and clean and run her classes for the younger children, the job she had been sent to do. And she wouldn't think. She simply forced herself not to think about the night before. She had to let time go by, time in which she could gather strength and have the benefit of a perspective before she thought about what had happened and what to do about it. She allowed herself one thought: no maker what, she was going to have a talk with Wilma Gans. And this time, there wouldn't be any friendliness or white lightning or tea.
She brushed her hair and pulled it back in a tight bun that looked business-like and severe. She paid special attention to her face and was grateful that the western jeans and blouse and coat hid all her bruises. She stood before the mirror, taking a deep breath. She looked neat and clean. There were circles under her eyes and she tried to smile to hide the look on her face. She looked ghastly, but was determined to get through the day.
She stepped from the trailer and froze, seeing Judd and Wilma Gans standing by a pickup and talking to a sheriff who turned and scratched his bead and looked at her. The look on Beth's face was wild. She had to retreat back into the camper and close the door, her heart thumping with fear. What was Wilma up to? Was she going to try and destroy her completely? Why would she do an insane thing like that? Why last night? Nothing made any sense.
She lifted a corner of one curtain and peeked, watching Judd drive off and Wilma walk up the hill to her house and the sheriff amble off to the admissions office. She watched, for a long time, shaking, and saw only a few dogs trot by and a chicken peck around. Summoning up her courage, she told herself it must have been another matter or the sheriff would have come over to her. Holding her breath, she opened the camper door, books in her hand, and stepped out, locking the door. The camp seemed empty with just the sound of children's voices playing out of sight and a dog barking.
She walked towards the empty drying shed that she was going to use as a classroom for the day when a voice called out, "Oh, Miss.
Beth whirled to see the sheriff walking from the admissions office with that no-hurry western style of loose walking. He ambled up to her, stuck his thumb in his heavy gunbelt and took off his Stetson. "Howdy. I'm Sheriff Lucas Lamont and you must be that new traveling schoolteacher. You're Miss Carruthers." His face was freckled behind his sunglasses and his smile was warm and welcoming.
"How do you do. My first name is Beth."
"I know. I know you came in last night or the late afternoon and you're here to help out. Those little ones need some kind of help and I'm mighty glad you're doing it and if I can be of any help to you or somebody gives you a hard time, I'm available to help."
"Why, thank you. That's very nice."
"It's my job. One word of caution, ma'am. Camps like this are a good place to stay out of on pay night. Maybe even the night after. These boys get a little wild round that time of the month. They don't mean no harm, but they do get out of line. If I was you, I'd arrange to be elsewhere on those nights.
"Thank you again, Sheriff Lamont. I'll keep that in mind." Beth turned to go.