“All right now, let’s eat,” Katey said.
“I reckon that’s the only thing that would make Old Man Willow mad enough to chase Zeke around like that. I’m just guessing.”
“That’s enough guessing,” Katey said abruptly. “I said to eat.”
That night, Katey brushed Claire’s hair and complained the entire time that it was like trying to run a brush through a net made of sailboat rigging. Claire grimaced every time the brush tore through another knot, but after it was done, she looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at the sight. Katey tucked her into bed and read her a story, then gave Claire a little kiss on the forehead and said, “Goodnight.”
Claire closed her eyes and turned over, but could hear the discussion in the living room between Katey and Jem as to exactly how late Jem would be allowed to stay up and wait for his father. The conversation ended with Katey saying, “Until I say so.”
Hours later, Claire felt a hand touching her face. She smelled that familiar tobacco and leather scent and felt Sam moving the hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, Princess,” Sam said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
Claire rubbed her eyes and told him it was okay. She laid back down and pulled his big hand back to her face. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Me too. I just wanted to make sure my little angel was okay.”
“I’m ok,” she yawned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Sometimes, a daddy just needs to check. You know that if anybody ever tries to do anything bad to you, you need to tell me right away. Don’t hide it, don’t be ashamed of it, and don’t keep it inside. You just come let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
“How would you take care of it?” she said. Her eyes started to close on their own. Sam kissed her on the face a few times and stood up without answering.
The next morning, Jem ran into Claire’s room and told her “Hurry up and get dressed! I’ve got to show you something.”
He waited anxiously for her in the hallway, and when she came out he held his finger to his lips and whispered, “Keep quiet.”
They could hear Sam snoring in his bedroom, and both kids crept through the front door and onto the porch. Jem said, “I stayed up till Pa got home and overheard him talking to Miss Katey. She asked him if he was okay, and he told her he was fine, but then she said that Doc Halladay told her the penitentiary was filled up at Seneca 5 and they weren’t taking any new prisoners. She asked him where he’d been all that time and what happened to Zeke.”
Jem looked back through the door and made sure they were still alone. “Pa wasn’t even mad that she caught him in a lie. He just said that he’d been out in the desert. She asked him again where Zeke was, and he told her never to mind.”
“Why was he being mean to her?” Claire said.
“He wasn’t,” Jem said. “He sounded all sad and emotional when he said it, and Miss Katey gave him a hug and told him he was a good man.” Jem took Claire’s hand and led her down the steps, taking her around the side of the house. “This morning, I was tending to his destrier and looking around when I found something.”
They went around the house to the rear and Jem bent down to sweep aside the long grass under the porch. He waved for Claire to come look, and she stared at Sam’s blood-splattered shirt and pants bundled and hidden in the grass. Claire backed away and put her hands around Jem’s arm, trying to pull him away. “Come on,” she said. “We weren’t supposed to see this. We’re gonna get in trouble.”
Jem let her pull him up, but as they walked back toward the house, he said, “I’m glad he done it.”
Elijah Harpe hobbled around the corner of the bed, using the frame to keep himself upright. He came within arm’s reach of Claire and said, “You don’t talk too much, do you.”
Claire stood her ground, but could not keep her eyes from flickering at her husband as he squirmed on his gimpy legs to keep his balance. His toes gripped the edges of the topmost hard-bound book, but the stack was uneven. It teetered under his feet as he danced back and forth on the books, whimpering a series of unintelligible pleas through the stuffed sock in his mouth.
“That ol’ boy can’t stand up there much longer, gorgeous,” Elijah said. Claire recoiled as Elijah sided up next to her and touched her cheek. He smirked at the way she stared back at him. “Behold, said the old man to the sons of Belial as they beset his house and beat upon his door. There is a good man within, and to him you shall do no vile thing. But instead, take my daughter, his concubine, and humble her.”
Elijah looked back at Frank and winked. “You know what those sons of Belial did next, partner?” He ran his finger down the length of Claire’s neck toward the center of her chest. “They abused her all the night, until the morning. Later, the good man divided her into twelve pieces and sent her all across the land. That’s in the Good Book.”
When Claire did not answer, Elijah grabbed her by the hair and pulled her close. He pressed his mouth against hers, and to his surprise, Claire’s mouth opened. He pushed his tongue against hers and swirled it around just as Claire chomped down with her teeth.
Elijah squealed and tried to push her away, but it felt like her teeth were about to tear his tongue in half. He went to stab her with the knife, but Claire caught his wrist with both hands and held his arm tight. Elijah landed a hard punch to her stomach with his other hand that doubled her over. He dropped an elbow onto the back of her head that dropped her to the floor in a heap.
He hopped back around the bed and shoved Frank off of the stack of books, making Frank’s face turn purple as he swung by the neck. His cheeks puffed out like they were going to burst and his legs dangled in the air.
Claire was trapped on her back like a turtle and Elijah showed her the knife and started to tell her about blowtorches and hot irons. About cutting pieces off of her husband’s body and feeding them to her. About how long it would take before she finally was allowed to die.
Claire slammed the heel of her foot into the thick bandages wrapped around Elijah’s knee and he looked down with his mouth open wide, but he was too stunned to scream. His eyes rolled into the back of his head like a slot machine coming up empty spaces and the knife slid out of his hand as he dropped to the floor.
Claire laid there, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Fireworks had exploded behind her eyes when Elijah hit her and she was still seeing flashes of green and white while she lay there looking up at the ceiling. It was Frank’s gurgling that lured her back. She grabbed a handful of blankets on the side of the bed and started pulling herself up.
Frank was swinging free on the rope and his face was turning black. Claire stumbled around the bed, and as she walked near Elijah, he snatched her by the ankle and wrapped himself around her leg.
Claire stomped him like an angry chicken, but he held her fast and managed to drag her down on top of him. She balled up her fist and slammed it into Elijah’s face with all her might and strained back to grab the bed and shove it as hard as she could.
The metal frame slid across the floor, just close enough that Frank was able to get the balls of his feet onto the mattress and stand up to take a quick breath.
Claire lifted her head and shouted, “Don’t you give up on me!”
Elijah grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted, winding it around his fist and cranking her head down until her ear was next to his mouth. “I was going to be nice to you before, you bitch, but now I’m going to show you what evil really is.”
Elijah Harpe slithered on his belly like a worm, coming out of the bedroom to get to the kitchen. He could only see out of one eye and it stung worse than a thousand needles stuffed inside his eyelids. He tried pushing up from the floor and collapsed. He tried again, but had to lay flat and catch his breath.