William looked over to the marble corner and saw Eddie had lost his turn and had moved back a bit from the group. Judging from his intense frown, William assumed he was concentrating on something other than marbles.
The stranger nodded as if that were the close of the subject and swilled his drink. William continued as if he’d been asked for more.
“Seems like this uncle, Beau Grant, is a wealthy man and didn’t like the notion of his blood kin being cut up and left to die and then buried in swamp ground. He’s a good man, this uncle is, because he hardly knew the boy and knows he didn’t have a thing to his name hardly except what the thieves took off him, and of course that’s gone. Not a thing left on the face of this earth but that row of gold teeth in his mouth,” William said. “After all,” he added, and chuckled, “what thief would have thought of opening up a boy’s mouth and plucking out his gold teeth, even if they would bring a pretty penny?”
The stranger was looking at him as if he were daft, but William plowed on, rewarded by Eddie’s rapt attention. The boy was now clearly paying no mind to the marble game in front of him.
“So what Beau Grant’s fixing to do is only because he wants the boy to rest in peace in a nice place and near to one relative at least. He’s expected sometime tomorrow, and he’s going to dig that boy up and take him back to his own home and put him in the family burying ground up where he lives near Richmond. Coming all this way to carry that boy to a proper grave, that’s a good man.”
Davis nodded in agreement. “Train? Ugly work to carry a body that far any other way.”
“Horse and wagon,” William said without thinking, then quickly set out to cover his mistake. “He is a rich man; in fact, he paid for those teeth, but he wants to keep the boy in his hands and under his care all the way. Feels like he’s suffered enough at the hands of strangers. So tonight will likely be the last night that poor boy will spend in his grave behind the church, God rest his soul. His uncle will have him up by tomorrow night and on his way back home.” William spoke the word tonight a little louder than the rest and hoped the gears would start turning in Eddie’s head.
“Well, he’s a better man than I am,” Davis said, and finished his drink. “I can’t say I’d be real eager to dig up a body that’s been put down for weeks and tote it a couple of hundred miles with me on the back of a wagon. A grave’s a grave, regardless of where it is. Why go to the trouble, especially since he hardly knew the boy?”
“It’s just the kind of man he is,” William said, and rushed to finish his speech because the stranger was brushing off his coat and pushing back his chair. “And it won’t be that much trouble, not with the kind of spring we’ve had. It’ll take some time, that’s true, but the earth’s neither crusty dry nor heavy sodden. ’Course where the boy is, the soil’s damp all the time and it would be a lot quicker job for two men than one. But I expect Mr. Grant can get some help if he needs it. Good luck to you, sir,” he finished, and stood up himself. “I hope your business goes well in Charleston.”
Mr. Davis nodded in response and made his way out of the tavern. William walked over to the keg, ran himself another rum, and sat back down at the table. He could not have asked for the second part of the plan to run more smoothly. The bait had been cast and he just had to wait and see if the fish were biting.
He stretched his legs out under the table and leaned back in the chair, sipping at the rum and watching Eddie reenter the marble game. It was with great satisfaction that William saw him lose his turn right off.
The hours before dusk had to be filled, so he filled them with his daughters, playing games and telling stories between the chores that could not be postponed. Finally, when the shadows were slanting long and narrow, he told them another story about how Aunt Lottie would need them for just one more night, and then she’d be all right on her own, and they could sleep in their own beds at home once again. He dropped them off with little fanfare, except for Lottie’s questions, which he pretended not to hear. Tomorrow he would tell her everything. Tonight he had nothing on his mind but capturing his prey. Again the church was dark and the churchyard empty when he got there. Riding around to the back, he dismounted, shouldered his shotgun, and scanned the woods that surrounded the small burial ground. If the Reverend Brown had gotten there first, he had hidden himself well. William saw nothing but tree trunks and undergrowth dissolving into blackness.
He led Gus into the woods on one side, and after tying up to a sturdy persimmon tree, he stepped back into the clearing. Following along the edge of the woods, he turned to look where Hannah lay but dared not stop because the cover of darkness was complete, and his prey would be eager for their treasure. Stepping back into the forest just behind the boy’s grave, he squinted and finally, some twenty feet in, caught sight of a glint of metal. Stepping another yard sideways, he saw a faint glow emanating from behind a large tree trunk. Moving forward as quietly as he could, he walked in toward the light and found the Reverend Brown sitting cross-legged beside an ancient oak tree, his Bible open on his lap. Next to him, hidden from direct view by the massive trunk, a kerosene lantern was glowing. Sitting beside that, wedged upright into the oak leaves, was a silver flask.
“Didn’t know you were a drinking man, Reverend,” William said, settling down on the ground across the lantern from him. “Hope I haven’t driven you to it, with this scheme of mine. You’re a good man to help me.”
“You haven’t driven me to anything, William. I drink hot coffee even when I’m not spending a night in the woods trying to catch two killers. I just hope we won’t be needing that.” He nodded toward the shotgun over William’s shoulder. “And call me Mark, if you don’t mind. Seems like we’re going to be here too long to stand on formalities.”
William was struck dumb for a moment and then extended his hand as if he’d just met the man. “I never figured on you having a first name somehow. Stupid of me.”
“That’s all right,” the preacher said, and offered his hand in return. “Lots of folks feel that way. Coffee?” he asked, and lifted the flask.
“Don’t mind if I do,” William said, and took a drink. It was perfect, lukewarm and strong. “How long have you been here, Mark?” He said the name only with difficulty, as if breaching a taboo.
“I got here just before dark and checked inside the church to make sure it was empty. Found this spot and got settled in about a half hour ago. I expect we’ve got a long night ahead of us. You got the boy... up all right?”
“Yep,” William said, remembering the soft resistance of the shovel tip when it met flesh. “The poor soul was put down in a sheet, not even a decent coffin.”
“That’s a shame, but made your work last night easier. You find the new spot all right?”
“I found it,” William said, remembering himself pulling the boy’s body behind him, his handkerchief up to his nose. “Don’t you suppose we ought to turn that light down, Reverend — Mark, in case one of them is sharp-eyed and looks this way?”
“There’ll be time enough for that. We’re liable to be here a couple of hours before they come and I’d planned on doing a little studying. We hear anybody coming, we can put it out in a second. You couldn’t see it from the back of the church, could you? I couldn’t when I looked.”
“No,” William admitted. “And I reckon we’ll hear them long before they could see us.”
The Reverend Mark Brown nodded and they said a few more things and then the preacher looked back down to his Bible. William moved back and leaned against a tree trunk. He closed his eyes, better to hear any hoofbeats in the distance, but all he heard was a chorus of spring peepers filling the night air with their singing.