"If she's right-handed she could spell out answers. Look here, Adam, if somebody tried to kill her I'd better catch him while I can. Just give me a pencil and let me talk to her."
Adam said, "You heard the doctor say her skull was cracked. How do you know she can remember?"
"Well, you give me paper and pencil and we'll see."
"I don't want you to bother her."
"Adam, goddam it, it doesn't matter what you want. I'm telling you I want a paper and pencil."
Then the other young man's voice. "What's the matter with you? You make it sound like it was you who did it. Give him a pencil."
She had her eyes closed when the three men came quietly into her room.
"She's asleep," Adam whispered.
She opened her eyes and looked at them.
The tall man came to the side of the bed. "I don't want to bother you, Miss. I'm the sheriff. I know you can't talk, but will you just write some things on this?"
She tried to nod and winced with pain. She blinked her eyes rapidly to indicate assent.
"That's the girl," said the sheriff. "You see? She wants to." He put the tablet on the bed beside her and molded her fingers around the pencil. "There we are. Now. What is your name?"
The three men watched her face. Her mouth grew thin and her eyes squinted. She closed her eyes and the pencil began to move. "I don't know," it scrawled in huge letters.
"Here, now there's a fresh sheet. What do you remember?"
"All black. Can't think," the pencil wrote before it went over the edge of the tablet.
"Don't you remember who you are, where you came from? Think!"
She seemed to go through a great struggle and then her face gave up and became tragic. "No. Mixed up. Help me."
"Poor child," the sheriff said. "I thank you for trying anyway. When you get better we'll try again. No, you don't have to write any more."
The pencil wrote, "Thank you," and fell from her fingers.
She had won the sheriff. He ranged himself with Adam. Only Charles was against her. When the brothers were in her room, and it took two of them to help her on the bedpan without hurting her, she studied Charles' dark sullenness. He had something in his face that she recognized, that made her uneasy. She saw that he touched the scar on his forehead very often, rubbed it, and drew its outline with his fingers. Once he caught her watching. He looked guiltily at his fingers. Charles said brutally, "Don't you worry. You're going to have one like it, maybe even a better one."
She smiled at him, and he looked away. When Adam came in with her warm soup Charles said, "I'm going in town and drink some beer."
3
Adam couldn't remember ever having been so happy. It didn't bother him that he did not know her name. She had said to call her Cathy, and that was enough for him. He cooked for Cathy, going through recipes used by his mother and his stepmother.
Cathy's vitality was great. She began to recover very quickly. The swelling went out of her cheeks and the prettiness of convalescence came to her face. In a short time she could be helped to a sitting position. She opened and closed her mouth very carefully, and she began to eat soft foods that required little chewing. The bandage was still on her forehead but the rest of her face was little marked except for the hollow cheek on the side where the teeth were missing.
Cathy was in trouble and her mind ranged for a way out of it. She spoke little even when it was not so difficult.
One afternoon she heard someone moving around in the kitchen. She called, "Adam, is it you?"
Charles' voice answered, "No, it's me."
"Would you come in here just a minute, please?"
He stood in the doorway. His eyes were sullen.
"You don't come in much," she said.
"That's right."
"You don't like me."
"I guess that's right too."
"Will you tell me why?"
He struggled to find an answer. "I don't trust you."
"Why not?"
"I don't know. And I don't believe you lost your memory."
"But why should I lie?"
"I don't know. That's why I don't trust you. There's something--I almost recognize."
"You never saw me in your life."
"Maybe not. But there's something that bothers me--that I ought to know. And how do you know I never saw you?"
She was silent, and he moved to leave. "Don't go," she said. "What do you intend to do?"
"About what?"
"About me."
He regarded her with a new interest. "You want the truth?"
"Why else would I ask?"
"I don't know, but I'll tell you. I'm going to get you out of here just as soon as I can. My brother's turned fool, but I'll bring him around if I have to lick him."
"Could you do that? He's a big man."
"I could do it."
She regarded him levelly. "Where is Adam?"
"Gone in town to get some more of your goddam medicine."
"You're a mean man."
"You know what I think? I don't think I'm half as mean as you are under that nice skin. I think you're a devil."
She laughed softly. "That makes two of us," she said. "Charles, how long do I have?"
"For what?"
"How long before you put me out? Tell me truly."
"All right, I will. About a week or ten days. Soon as you can get around."
"Suppose I don't go."
He regarded her craftily, almost with pleasure at the thought of combat. "All right, I'll tell you. When you had all that dope you talked a lot, like in your sleep."
"I don't believe that."
He laughed, for he had seen the quick tightening of her mouth. "All right, don't. And if you just go about your business as soon as you can, I won't tell. But if you don't, you'll know all right, and so will the sheriff."
"I don't believe I said anything bad. What could I say?"
"I won't argue with you. And I've got work to do. You asked me and I told you."
He went outside. Back of the henhouse he leaned over and laughed and slapped his leg. "I thought she was smarter," he said to himself. And he felt more easy than he had for days.
4
Charles had frightened her badly. And if he had recognized her, so had she recognized him. He was the only person she had ever met who played it her way. Cathy followed his thinking, and it did not reassure her. She knew that her tricks would not work with him, and she needed protection and rest. Her money was gone. She had to be sheltered, and would have to be for a long time. She was tired and sick, but her mind went skipping among possibilities.
Adam came back from town with a bottle of Pain Killer. He poured a tablespoonful. "This will taste horrible," he said. "It's good stuff though."
She took it without protest, did not even make much of a face about it. "You're good to me," she said. "I wonder why? I've brought you trouble."
"You have not. You've brightened up the whole house. Never complain or anything, hurt as bad as you are."
"You're so good, so kind."
"I want to be."
"Do you have to go out? Couldn't you stay and talk to me?"
"Sure I could. There's nothing so important to do."
"Draw up a chair, Adam, and sit down."
When he was seated she stretched her right hand toward him, and he took it in both of his. "So good and kind," she repeated. "Adam, you keep promises, don't you?"
"I try to. What are you thinking about?"
"I'm alone and I'm afraid," she cried. "I'm afraid."
"Can't I help you?"
"I don't think anyone can help me."
"Tell me and let me try."
"That's the worst part. I can't even tell you."
"Why not? If it's a secret I won't tell it."
"It's not my secret, don't you see?"
"No, I don't."
Her fingers gripped his hand tightly. "Adam, I didn't ever lose my memory."
"Then why did you s
ay--"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you. Did you love your father, Adam?"
"I guess I revered him more than loved him."
"Well, if someone you revered were in trouble, wouldn't you do anything to save him from destruction?"
"Well, sure. I guess I would."
"Well, that's how it is with me."
"But how did you get hurt?"
"That's part of it. That's why I can't tell."
"Was it your father?"
"Oh, no. But it's all tied up together."
"You mean, if you tell me who hurt you, then your father will be in trouble?"
She sighed. He would make up the story himself. "Adam, will you trust me?"
"Of course."
"It's an awful thing to ask."
"No, it isn't, not if you're protecting your father."
"You understand, it's not my secret. If it were I'd tell you in a minute."
"Of course I understand. I'd do the same thing myself."
"Oh, you understand so much." Tears welled up in her eyes. He leaned down toward her, and she kissed him on the cheek.
"Don't you worry," he said. "I'll take care of you."
She lay back against the pillow. "I don't think you can."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, your brother doesn't like me. He wants me to get out of here."
"Did he tell you that?"
"Oh, no. I can just feel it. He hasn't your understanding."
"He has a good heart."
"I know that, but he doesn't have your kindness. And when I have to go--the sheriff is going to begin asking questions and I'll be all alone."
He stared into space. "My brother can't make you go. I own half of this farm. I have my own money."
"If he wanted me to go I would have to. I can't spoil your life."
Adam stood up and strode out of the room. He went to the back door and looked out on the afternoon. Far off in the field his brother was lifting stones from a sled and piling them on the stone wall. Adam looked up at the sky. A blanket of herring clouds was rolling in from the east. He sighed deeply and his breath made a tickling, exciting feeling in his chest. His ears seemed suddenly clear, so that he heard the chickens cackling and the east wind blowing over the ground. He heard horses' hoofs plodding on the road and far-off pounding on wood where a neighbor was shingling a barn. And all these sounds related into a kind of music. His eyes were clear too. Fences and walls and sheds stood staunchly out in the yellow afternoon, and they were related too. There was change in everything. A flight of sparrows dropped into the dust and scrabbled for bits of food and then flew off like a gray scarf twisting in the light. Adam looked back at his brother. He had lost track of time and he did not know how long he had been standing in the doorway.
No time had passed. Charles was still struggling with the same large stone. And Adam had not released the full, held breath he had taken when time stopped.
Suddenly he knew joy and sorrow felted into one fabric. Courage and fear were one thing too. He found that he had started to hum a droning little tune. He turned, walked through the kitchen, and stood in the doorway, looking at Cathy. She smiled weakly at him, and he thought. What a child! What a helpless child! and a surge of love filled him.
"Will you marry me?" he asked.
Her face tightened and her hand closed convulsively.
"You don't have to tell me now," he said. "I want you to think about it. But if you would marry me I could protect you. No one could hurt you again."
Cathy recovered in an instant. "Come here, Adam. There, sit down. Here, give me your hand. That's good, that's right." She raised his hand and put the back of it against her cheek. "My dear," she said brokenly. "Oh, my dear. Look, Adam, you have trusted me. Now will you promise me something? Will you promise not to tell your brother you have asked me?"
"Asked you to marry me? Why shouldn't I?"
"It's not that. I want this night to think. I'll want maybe more than this night. Could you let me do that?" She raised her hand to her head. "You know I'm not sure I can think straight. And I want to."
"Do you think you might marry me?"
"Please, Adam. Let me alone to think. Please, my dear."
He smiled and said nervously, "Don't make it long. I'm kind of like a cat up a tree so far he can't come down."
"Just let me think. And, Adam--you're a kind man."
He went outside and walked toward where his brother was loading stones.
When he was gone Cathy got up from her bed and moved unsteadily to the bureau. She leaned forward and looked at her face. The bandage was still on her forehead. She raised the edge of it enough to see the angry red underneath. She had not only made up her mind to marry Adam but she had so decided before he had asked her. She was afraid. She needed protection and money. Adam could give her both. And she could control him--she knew that. She did not want to be married, but for the time being it was a refuge. Only one thing bothered her. Adam had a warmth toward her which she did not understand since she had none toward him, nor had ever experienced it toward anyone. And Mr. Edwards had really frightened her. That had been the only time in her life she had lost control of a situation. She determined never to let it happen again. She smiled to herself when she thought what Charles would say. She felt a kinship to Charles. She didn't mind his suspicion of her.
5
Charles straightened up when Adam approached. He put his palms against the small of his back and massaged the tired muscles. "My God, there's lots of rocks," he said.
"Fellow in the army told me there's valleys in California--miles and miles--and you can't find a stone, not even a little one."
"There'll be something else," said Charles. "I don't think there's any farm without something wrong with it. Out in the Middle West it's locusts, someplace else it's tornadoes. What's a few stones?"
"I guess you're right. I thought I would give you a hand."
"That's nice of you. I thought you'd spend the rest of your life holding hands with that in there. How long is she going to stay?"
Adam was on the point of telling him of his proposal but the tone of Charles' voice made him change his mind.
"Say," Charles said, "Alex Platt came by a little while ago. You'd never think what happened to him. He's found a fortune."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you know the place on his property where that clump of cedars sticks out--you know, right on the county road?"
"I know. What about it?"
"Alex went in between those trees and his stone wall. He was hunting rabbits. He found a suitcase and a man's clothes, all packed nice. Soaked up with rain though. Looked like it had been there some time. And there was a wooden box with a lock, and when he broke it open there was near four thousand dollars in it. And he found a purse too. There wasn't anything in it."
"No name or. anything?"
"That's the strange part--no name; no name on the clothes, no labels on the suits. It's just like the fellow didn't want to be traced."
"Is Alex going to keep it?"
"He took it in to the sheriff, and the sheriff is going to advertise it, and if nobody answers Alex can keep it."
"Somebody's sure to claim it."
"I guess so. I didn't tell Alex that. He's feeling so good about it. That's funny about no labels--not cut out, just didn't have any."
"That's a lot of money," Adam said. "Somebody's bound to claim it."
"Alex hung around for a while. You know, his wife goes around a lot." Charles was silent. "Adam," he said finally, "we got to have a talk. The whole county's doing plenty of talking."
"What about? What do you mean?"
"Goddam it, about that--that girl. Two men can't have a girl living with them. Alex says the women are pretty riled up about it. Adam, we can't have it. We live here. We've got a good name."
"You want me to throw her out before she's well?"
"I want you to get rid of her--get her out. I don't like her."
r /> "You never have."
"I know it. I don't trust her. There's something--something--I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. When you going to get her out?"
"Tell you what," Adam said slowly. "Give her one more week and then I'll do something about her."
"You promise?"
"Sure I promise."
"Well, that's something. I'll get the word to Alex's wife. From there on she'll handle the news. Good Lord, I'll be glad to have the house to ourselves again. I don't suppose her memory's come back?"
"No," said Adam.
6
Five days later, when Charles had gone to buy some calf feed, Adam drove the buggy to the kitchen steps. He helped Cathy in, tucked a blanket around her knees, and put another around her shoulders. He drove to the county seat and was married to her by a justice of the peace.
Charles was home when they returned. He looked sourly at them when they came into the kitchen. "I thought you'd took her in to put her on the train."
"We got married," Adam said simply.
Cathy smiled at Charles.
"Why? Why did you do it?"
"Why not? Can't a man get married?"
Cathy went quickly into the bedroom and closed the door.
Charles began to rave. "She's no damn good, I tell you. She's a whore."
"Charles!"
"I tell you, she's just a two-bit whore. I wouldn't trust her with a bit piece--why, that bitch, that slut!"
"Charles, stop it! Stop it, I tell you! You keep your filthy mouth shut about my wife!"
"She's no more a wife than an alley cat."
Adam said slowly, "I think you're jealous, Charles. I think you wanted to marry her."
"Why, you goddam fool! Me jealous? I won't live in the same house with her!"
Adam said evenly, "You won't have to. I'm going away. You can buy me out if you want. You can have the farm. You always wanted it. You can stay here and rot."
Charles' voice lowered. "Won't you get rid of her? Please, Adam. Throw her out. She'll tear you to pieces. She'll destroy you, Adam, she'll destroy you!"
"How do you know so much about her?"
Charles' eyes were bleak. "I don't," he said, and his mouth snapped shut.
Adam did not even ask Cathy whether she wanted to come out for dinner. He carried two plates into the bedroom and sat beside her.
"We're going to go away," he said. "Let me go away. Please, let me. I don't want to make you hate your brother. I wonder why he hates me?"
"I think he's jealous."
Her eyes narrowed. "Jealous?"
"That's what it looks like to me. You don't have to worry. We're getting out. We're going to California."