The boy sounded defensive, and Tony regretted saying anything. He watched Essie slice the buttons off the girl’s shoe and rip open her stocking. Amid the cuts and scratches on the girl’s ankle, he spotted two oozing fang bites.
Essie took one look at the injury and turned to the boy. “Go get a horse, Harley, and bring it to the edge of the woods.”
Harley tore off in the direction of the nearest house. Tony tried to maneuver Brianna so that a beam of moonlight fell across her ankle. He knew what was coming. They’d need all the light they could get.
“It’s burning, it’s burning,” she sobbed.
Tony kissed her head and stroked her hair. “I know, honey. Try to take some deep breaths, if you can.”
She took a shaky breath, then moaned.
Essie tossed up her own hem, ripped the ruffle clean off her petticoat, then split it into two strips. She quickly tied one strip above the bite and one below.
“You need me to tighten those?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I’m just trying to slow down the venom, not cut off her blood flow.” She wedged two fingers beneath the cotton bands, making sure the strips weren’t too tight.
He’d seen plenty of snakes in his day but had never actually seen someone who’d suffered from a bite. He had a gleaning knowledge of what had to be done but wouldn’t have trusted himself to do it when he could just as easily have taken her to a doctor.
But Essie had no hesitation in her actions. Picking up his knife, she pantomimed a firm, rigid hug.
Nodding, he gathered Brianna to him and clamped down. “Hold real still now, sweetheart. Essie’s gonna have a look at the bite and I don’t want you to kick her. All right?”
Brianna moaned in answer and stiffened in his arms.
With quick proficiency, Essie made an incision across each wound. Brianna screamed. Tony held her firmly in place.
Tossing the knife down, Essie grabbed the girl’s leg like it was a piece of corn on the cob and began to suck at the wounds, then spit out blood.
The girl cried out in protest, struggling anew, but Tony held her secure, watching in wonder as Essie sucked and spit, sucked and spit.
He knew of grown men who wouldn’t have the stomach to do what she was doing, yet there was no wavering in her task. On and on she went. How long would she continue?
“Stop, stop. Please. It hurts!”
He buried his nose in Brianna’s hair, shushing her, whispering to her, all the while Essie tried to pull the venom from the girl.
“You need a break?” he asked. “You want me to do that for a while?”
She swiped her mouth with her sleeve. “I won’t be able to hold her still. Besides, every minute counts. We’ve only a few left for this to be effective.”
Essie checked the tightness of the bands, then bent to her task again. The girl was trembling all over and sobbing uncontrollably now. Her leg was beginning to swell.
Wasn’t it dangerous for Essie to suck the venom into her mouth like that? What if she swallowed some of it? Could both she and the girl die?
His stomach started to gurgle and he took several deep breaths.
Harley exploded back into the clearing. “I got two of Mr. Peeples’ horses tied to a tree. He said he’d get word to Doc Gulick to meet you at the Penningtons’.”
Essie surged to her feet. “Come on. We need to hurry.”
As Tony ran with the girl in his arms, he could feel all the fight bouncing out of her. When they reached the horses, Essie held out her arms for Brianna. The girl was no longer thrashing but lay limp, sweating profusely and keening in a high, mournful voice.
Tony grabbed the mane of a cinnamon-colored horse and pulled himself onto it. He hadn’t ridden bareback since he was a kid. At least Harley had taken the time to bridle her.
Slipping off his jacket, he wrapped it around Brianna and took her from Essie’s raised arms. Harley made a stirrup with his hands, giving Essie a boost up onto her mare.
Without so much as a word, she straddled the horse like a man and kicked the animal’s sides.
The Penningtons lived in a house on West Jackson Avenue. It had three large rooms, a kitchen, and a center hall leading to a back porch, where Tony and Harley waited for word about Brianna.
A full moon hanging high in a bed of stars threw muted light onto the yard. Nearby crickets performed a syncopated symphony.
“You should see this place in the day,” Harley said, sitting on the top porch step, his back against a post. “Miss Katy loves to work in the garden and she has flowers almost solid from here to the fence out front. Blue ones, purple ones, red ones, pink ones, every color you could name.”
Tony set his chair to rocking. After arriving, he remembered what Essie had said back in the Slap Out about there being no Mrs. Pennington. She’d died and left behind a husband and eight girls. The cooper and his oldest daughter had met them at the door and whisked Brianna into a room off the central hallway. The doctor and Essie followed, but Tony and Harley had been consigned to the back porch. Which was just fine with Tony.
“Which one is Miss Katy?” he asked.
“One of the older ones.”
Tony had seen four of the sisters since arriving. The one that had greeted them at the door and three others running between the kitchen and the room they had taken Brianna into.
“Did Brianna’s father know you’d taken her snake hunting?”
“O’ courst. My pa would whup me good if’n I took her without permission.”
“Aren’t your parents wondering what’s keeping you now?”
“They might be. But I ain’t leavin’ ’til I know Bri’s gonna be all right.”
A distant coyote gave a yapping howl, ending with a shrill, scream-like sound. Harley repositioned himself on the step.
“You do this often?” Tony asked. “Snake hunting, I mean?”
“Yeah, I guess. I caught me a yellow-bellied water snake a few weeks back out by the old watershed. It was a good four feet long and this big around.” He made a circle the size of a silver dollar with his fingers.
Tony whistled in appreciation. “You still have it?”
“Naw. My pa made me let it loose ’cause I snuck up on Lexie Davis and scared her with it.” Harley gave Tony a conspiring grin. “She shore did squeal something fierce, though.”
Tony chuckled. “How do you know which snakes are poisonous and which are friendly?”
“Miss Essie showed me.”
Tony stopped his rocker. “Essie? Our Essie?”
Harley gave him a funny look. “You know any others?”
“She showed you?”
“Well, at first, she just tol’ me that if it had a flat head instead of a round, pointy one, that it would be poisonous. Then when we would run acrost a copperhead or cottonmouth or something, she’d tell me what it was.”
“Do you and Essie make a habit of running across snakes?”
Harley laughed. “Well, yeah. Wouldn’t be much use in huntin’ snakes if we never ran acrost any.”
“You and Essie hunt snakes?”
“Why, shore. She’s the one what taught me how.”
Tony rubbed a hand across his mouth. He didn’t know why he was surprised. Nothing about that woman should surprise him anymore. “How often do you go hunting with her?”
“Not so much anymore. She’s always busy with her bicycle stuff.”
The screen door opened and Essie stepped outside. Tony and Harley came to their feet.
“She’s going to be fine,” Essie said.
Tony let out his breath and Harley slumped against the porch rail.
“What did the doctor say?” Tony asked.
“That the swelling should go away in another two or three weeks and then she’ll be back to normal.”
“You extracted all the venom, then, when you were, um, treating her?” Tony asked.
“Well, I don’t imagine there was all that much to begin with. It was apparent the snake had eat
en recently, which would have used up most of its poison.”
“No, Miss Essie,” Harley said. “You saved her life.” He pitched himself against her skirts and hugged her tightly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if somethin’ had happened to Bri.”
Essie smoothed her hand over his head. “Well, she’s fine now, so no need to worry yourself. And I’m surprised you’re still here.
Hadn’t you better be getting on home?”
He pulled away from her and swiped his nose with his sleeve. “Can I see Bri?”
“Not tonight, Harley. Maybe tomorrow.”
He glanced at the back door, then slumped his shoulders. “Well, if yer sure she’s gonna be all right?”
“I’m sure. Now go on with you.”
He waved good-bye to Tony, clomped down the steps, then disappeared around the corner and into the night. Essie moved to the porch railing, leaned her hands against it and looked out at the moonlit sky.
Tony wished he had a lantern. Her hair had come completely unbound. It was wild and thick and clear down to her waist. Her blouse was twisted, its sleeve stained with blood. Her torn skirt fell limply about her slim hips.
“You okay?” he asked.
“It’s been a long night,” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. A breeze swept across the porch, stirring her hair and causing her to shiver.
“You left your shawl in the woods,” he said, slipping off his jacket and hooking it on her shoulders. The coat trapped her hair beneath it, cutting all but the top from his view.
She pulled the collar tighter around her neck. “I left your knife behind also,” she said.
Patting his pockets, he realized she was right. “I’ll have Harley fetch them for us tomorrow. I’d do it myself, but I don’t think I could find the spot.”
“I hope your knife doesn’t rust being left out overnight. It was such an unusual one.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m more worried about you.”
She waved her hand in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m just tired, is all.”
“Why don’t you let me walk you home, then. Surely you’ve done all you can.”
Keeping her back to him, she scanned the yard and the shadows beyond it. “Yes. Dr. Gulick is almost finished, and Brianna’s sisters will take good care of her. But you needn’t walk me home. I’m sure you’re just as anxious to get some rest as I am, and morning will come awfully early for you.”
Moonlight gilded her hair, and his jacket hung on her like a burlap sack, shrouding her form. He tried to recall the reasons he’d held contempt for her just a few short hours ago, but could not. Instead, he kept seeing her in his mind’s eye crouched over that little girl, desperately trying to save her life—and succeeding.
Then he pictured her sliding down a banister, playing football, hugging Harley, smiling.
He took a deep breath. He was no stranger to the feelings stirring inside him. But this time they were unwelcome. He had a purpose to fulfill, a mother and a sister to provide for.
There was no room in his life for distractions. Essie had offered an excuse, and he knew he should accept it and put as much distance between them as he could.
She lowered her chin and began to pick at the wood on the railing. Her hair bunched along the back of the jacket’s collar. Reaching up, he scooped the golden mane into his hand and pulled it free from its confinement. The silky strands glided through his fingers and fell against her back.
She spun around, her skirts catching against the railing and twisting round her legs. She lifted her hands to her hair, causing the jacket to fall off, then swiftly fished out some pins from a skirt pocket and placed them in her mouth. She finger-combed her hair, banded it together, and twirled it against her head with quick, efficient movements.
While her hands were full and occupied, he drew the pins from her mouth. She stilled and lifted her gaze to his.
He handed her a pin. She took it from him, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his, and tucked it into her hair. He doled the pins out one at a time until she reached for the last one. He squeezed it, keeping her from taking it.
They stood suspended, linked not by touch, but by opposite ends of the pin. What would she do if he tugged on his end? Would she let go or would she come to him?
Releasing the pin, he stepped away, retrieved his jacket from the floor of the porch and held it open. “Ready?”
Patting her hair, she presented her back to him. He hooked the jacket on her shoulders and offered her his arm.
After a slight hesitation, she slipped a hand out from the folds of his jacket.
On the street, he adjusted his stride to hers. The fabric of her skirt swished when she walked and brushed against his leg. Neither of them uttered a word the entire way home.
At Bilberry Street they took a right and she gently removed her hand from his arm. He opened the gate leading to her house. There were no lights coming from the windows. Hadn’t her father wondered where she was? Did she come home late so often that he didn’t even bother to wait up for her?
The giant pecan trees on either side of the walkway shadowed the porch, making it almost impossible to see. Taking her elbow, he guided her up the steps, then reached for the door.
She placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Thank you for seeing me home, Tony.”
He straightened. “You’re welcome.”
Darkness surrounded them. He could make out her silhouette, but little else.
Shrugging his jacket from her shoulders, she handed it to him. “Thank you.”
He nodded and slung it over his arm, but made no move to leave. A lonely bird some distance off called out, but received no answer.
“Well,” she said.
“Well,” he repeated, backing up a step. “I guess I’d better be going.”
“Yes.” But she made no move to go inside. “When do you think the Bakers will be able to come to Corsicana?”
“Who? Oh! The Baker brothers. Yes, well, I’m not sure. It depends on whether or not they’re still in Beaumont. I could shoot my friend a telegram first thing in the morning, but it would mean I’d be a little late for work.”
“I’ll tell Mr. Moss.”
“Then I’ll take care of it and let you know when I hear from them.” He backed up another step.
“Be careful. I think the stairs are right behind you.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Right. Yes. Thank you. Don’t suppose it would be good if I fell down the stairs after everything else that’s happened tonight.”
She made no response. He wished he could see her expression, then thought better of it. After another second’s hesitation, he tugged the brim of his hat, then strode down the steps, across the yard, out the gate and back toward town.
chapter NINE
ROLLING PEGASUS out of the shed, Essie walked her bike to the street, pointed it toward town and smoothly mounted. The cloudless day offered no breeze or relief from the sun’s intense rays, but Essie took little notice of it, her mind fully occupied with thoughts of Mr. Bryant.
Something had changed, though she couldn’t pinpoint what exactly. When he’d gathered her hair into his hands, she’d briefly remembered another man doing the same thing. And much as she’d enjoyed those moments, there was a wealth of hurt in the memories, too.
Turning onto Fourth Street, she waved at the men working a series of Sullivan Oil rigs. Work on the derricks ceased. The men doffed their hats, waved back and waited for her to pass before resuming their duties.
When she’d first met Tony, he had bristled with resentment. When had his feelings changed, she wondered. After she re-hired him? After the football match? Brianna’s tragedy? Whenever it happened, there was no question the animosity had slowly melted away like bubbles in a washtub. What troubled Essie was what the change meant.
Approaching Collin Street her heart began to hammer. In another minute or two, she’d be passing the rig Tony worked on. Releasing one handlebar, she touched her
hair and hat, assuring herself all was in place. She smoothed her collar, pinched her cheeks, then ran a hand across her stomach.
Turning the corner, she immediately spotted his rig several hundred yards ahead. Should she look for him? Pretend she didn’t notice him? Wave? Smile? Do nothing?
Before she could decide, she was upon them. Again the men stopped and she raised a hand to wave. Her tire hit a rut in the road, throwing her off-balance. She grasped the handlebars with both hands as if they were the horns of a bull wrenching its head from side to side.
The bike pitched to the left, and she only kept upright by kicking out her foot and pushing against the road. But she overcompensated and had to do the same with her other foot before regaining control.
Heat rushed to her face. Were they still watching her? Had Tony seen? She knew the answer without looking.
Mortified, she kept her eyes straight ahead and did not wave to any other rigs or acknowledge them in any way. Experienced wheelers fell off of their machines all the time, she told herself. It was part of the sport. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
Her stomach refused to calm, however, so she cleared her mind of all thoughts and concentrated on reaching the sanctuary of the jailhouse.
At the south end of Jefferson Avenue, she rolled to a stop, jumped off Peg and leaned her against the red bricks of the sheriff’s office.
The handlebars of her bike knocked loose a bit of grout, sprinkling the boardwalk with flakes of gray.
Adjusting her straw hat, she took a moment to compose herself, then tiptoed underneath the oversized five-pointed star hanging above the open door and peeked into a building that was as familiar to her as her own home. She could tolerate the deputy if Uncle Melvin was there to run interference, but she didn’t relish being caught alone with the man.
Nothing stirred inside the vacant room. “Uncle Melvin?”
Two desks filled the space between the door and the empty cells running along the back wall. Moving to the desk closest to the door, she fingered a Wanted poster frayed at the edges, and examined the vacant eyes of Saw Dust Charlie, horse thief, wondering what led a man into a life of crime.