After lights out that night, I climbed the wall, taking the possessions I’d acquired at the school—three volumes of Byron’s poetry and the K volume of the encyclopedia. I hitched a ride from a passing farmer, then walked the last three miles to the inn. I arrived at last, footsore and weary, at two o’clock in the morning. A light burned on the inn’s front porch and Jewel was pacing anxiously beneath it. She had been expecting me, knowing I would come, knowing I had never failed her and would not fail her now.
Neither one of us spoke. We didn’t have to. Without a word, she led me up the back stairs to a bedroom that we used only for storage. The smell of decay hung in the hallway, heavy and oppressive. I opened the door and tried not to breathe. Jewel hung back, her hand to her mouth, shaking. I saw a shapeless form wrapped in Jewel’s pink chenille bedspread; its upper end was caked with dried blood. I unwound the bedspread and exposed Jesse’s face. I wrapped him up again and seized him by his boots, putting one under each arm. He may have been slight of build in life, but he was heavy as the dickens to drag once dead. Jewel backed away as I hauled his body down the hallway. Going down to the landing, his head hit each stair behind me with a sickening thud. Looking down from above, Jewel began to cry.
“Promise me,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
“Anything,” she sobbed.
“That we’ll never talk about this. Ever.”
“Don’t you want to know what happened?”
“No. It can’t matter now. It’s done. And I never want to hear about it again, not even when we’re alone. Not ever. Do you understand?”
She nodded and I went out and buried him.
Three days passed before the sheriff came. The reverend was not with him, but Mrs. Hennessey was so overcome with curiosity that she stationed herself brazenly at the bottom of the porch steps, so as to hear better. The sherriff looked surprised to see me.
“What are you doing home? I thought you were in reform school.”
I shrugged. “I got reformed and they sent me back.”
“Get your mother,” he instructed.
“Why?”
“None of your business. Just get her and get her quick. I don’t have all day. I got other business to tend to.”
“Has a burst of criminal activity besieged Galen, Sheriff?” I asked.
“Get her or I’ll get her myself.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?” His body filled the doorway.
“She’s ill. Influenza. Been in bed for days.”
The girls came laughing into the parlor behind me. I chased them out, so that the sheriff wouldn’t have a chance to ask them anything. I could have told them what to say, rehearsed them till they got it right, but they weren’t really a part of the secret. It was between me and Jewel and no one else. Besides, there was no use in involving them. They had slept right through it all and couldn’t know what had happened. “Maybe I can help you,” I volunteered. “I’m handling Jewel’s affairs while she’s sick.”
He hesitated. “All right. You know that fella called hisself Jesse James?”
“Of course, I know him. He lived in my house goin’ on a year.”
“Well, his name isn’t Jesse James at all.”
“No?” I asked breathlessly.
“That’s right. Real name’s Wistar Paist and the government is looking for him.”
“What for?”
“Seems Paist went AWOL in Philadelphia right after his ship docked. He’s in a lot of trouble.”
“Well, he isn’t here if that’s what you came for.”
“I didn’t think he was. Highway patrol found his motorcycle abandoned on the highway. Seems odd he’d just go off and leave it like that.”
“Maybe somebody offered him a ride,” I said helpfully.
“When did he leave here, Darcy?”
“Yesterday, maybe around two o’clock.”
“Is he coming back?”
“I doubt it,” I said. “You know how his kind are, first one place, then another.”
“Why’d he leave?” he asked me. “I thought that things was real cozy with your mama and him, just holed up here like two bugs in a rug.”
I forced myself not to sound offended. “I told you all I know. He left because that’s the kind of man he is, a drifter. Men like that never stay in one place long.”
The sheriff removed his hat and leaned against the porch post. “I get the feeling you’re hiding something. Maybe you’re hiding him. Maybe you got him in the attic or the barn.”
“You’re welcome to search the house, if it’ll make you sleep better,” I said, throwing the door wide.
“I’m not that stupid,” he muttered scornfully. “I’m sure your stalling has given him plenty of time to escape. We’ll search the orchard and the woods. Maybe he’s hiding there just waiting for you to give the all clear sign.”
My throat went dry. I had buried Jesse in the orchard where the earth was soft. And nothing, I knew, aroused canine curiosity like the combination of death and soft earth. Old Sam had tried to dig him back up, and if the sheriff had brought dogs….
“I couldn’t help but overhear,” Mrs. Hennessey interjected, climbing the porch steps, as if to take her place at center stage. “Darcy is speaking the truth. That Mr. James did go off just like Darcy said. Why, I’m probably the last person in Galen to see him go,” she said triumphantly, as if expecting a prize. Clearly, she now thought herself an indispensable part of the conversation.
“You saw him, Mrs. Hennessey? When was that?”
“Well,” she deliberated. “It must have been about two, because the sun was just beginning to go down down over the ridge. Mr. James was walking along the ridge, swinging that duffel bag of his. Mr. Hennessey used to have one of those when
