Amateur Hour

“August 15, 1870: To know, to will, to dare… to keep silent. The principles are not unique to Margaret’s tradition, though Margaret would have one believe so. A week has passed since my humiliation, at her hands, and it galls me, still. I have faithfully demonstrated my adherence to these principals, and worked harder to learn my craft, than the other two novices.

Yet, it was Bug-eyed Bess, and Larkish Libby who were accepted as sisters, while I was scorned. Does that make me Contemned Caroline?”

Lisa Rawlings drew a sharp breath. Unconsciously, her left hand crept up to the moonstone pendant, around her neck, and she rubbed the stone, warm from her skin, between her thumb and middle finger.

At long last, she’d finally been able to carve out some time, in the evening, to go through her haul, from the rectory cellar. The tin box of manuscripts had been the only thing she’d cared to have from that accursed hole. Up to now, her treasure had seemed to be trash, though she hated to admit it, even to herself. It had been an array of old homilies, lists, and oddball notes that had meant something to some rector, once upon a time.

Tucked in behind one of those sermons, she had found (at last), not only something interesting to read, but the echoes of a girl who had been a mystery, to her. Callie had written this. There could be no doubt — the incident she was describing matched the one Margaret had shown her, in her dreams.

She started, with a muffled cry, when Tucker’s hands descended to rest on her shoulders. That would teach her to sit in his chair, she thought, with her back to the door.

“How goes the slog?” he asked, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I just found Callie, of all people.”

“Callie? How did Callie get into a box of church junk?”

“How would I know, Deputy? How did some of this other stuff get in here, and why was it kept?”

“I see your point,” he chuckled, and eased around to draw Toni’s chair closer to her.

“You look like you’re about to burst, with glee.”

He did. Tuck’s eyes were twinkling, and he wore a mischievous grin.

“Close your eyes, and hold out your hand.”

“Tucker —”

“Humor me, woman.”

Lisa rolled her eyes, then closed them, and stuck out her left hand. The object that he placed in her palm was cool and metallic. Lisa’s mouth was flooded, with the taste of bourbon, and tobacco, making her want to gag. She opened her eyes and took in the sight of the small cigar case, before she dropped it, unceremoniously, onto the kitchen table.

“Where, in hell did that come from?” she demanded, with a grimace, scrubbing her hand against the leg of her jeans.

“From that strongbox, in the cellar,” Tuck frowned. “Will and I cracked it, today. What ails you, Darlin’? I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m glad you and Will got your box open. It’s just that that thing is… hot.”

“It is? I thought that was just jewelry, and just sometimes.”

“So did I,” she smiled, ruefully. “I tasted tobacco and bourbon. I hate bourbon,” she laughed, a little. “Please, tell me your box isn’t full of stuff like this.”

“It’s your box, and I wish I could. It’s full of small valuables. That case is sterling.”

“I don’t want it. I don’t want anything in that box.” Her tone and face were suddenly sober.

“How do you know? At a glance, there are some very pretty pieces, in there. Antiques. At worst, you could sell them, and put the funds toward the museum.”

“That’s a fine idea. Sell them, and leave me out of it. Or, leave them where they are, and let the rubble cover them, when the rectory is bulldozed.” As she spoke, she interlaced her fingers, chafing them against each other, at the base. She needed to start wearing gloves, when she did the dishes.

Tuck was disappointed, by her wet blanketing, she could tell. Lisa reached out to squeeze his hand. “Selling them is best. It’s very good luck, that there’s something down there, that can help get the museum, on its feet. You and Will did good. I’ll call and reschedule the demolition, if you need more time to get the stuff out of there.”

“I think we can manage,” he smiled, somewhat cheered. “Jethro’s the perfect beast of burden.”

“I heard that.” Will sauntered in, from parts unknown, with his usual uncanny timing. He rummaged through a cabinet, produced a box of vanilla wafers, and joined them, at the table to munch. “Lisa, what’s wrong with your hands?”

“I don’t know.” She held them out, in front of herself, frowning a little, at the pinkness, in the webbing between her fingers. “Dry skin, I guess. They itch, like the dickens.”

Tuck seized one, half playfully, to examine it. Lisa snatched it back, with a not-so-playful scowl.

“Stop it. You’re so grabby.”

“Better do what she says, Pa. She’s rich enough to replace you, now.”

“Doesn’t want it, she says.”

“No?” Will had the common sense to address the question to her, rather than talk about her, in her presence.

“No. Take anything you want, and sell the rest.”

“You don’t even want to see it?”

“No, Will, I do not. Keep it, sell it, I don’t give a damn.”

This strong reaction brought a look of mild surprise, to Will’s happy-go-lucky face. Will was ever one to under react, and she took the look for what it was — astonishment.

“No good can come of stuff like that, Will,” she continued, softening. “You know what it is, right? A collection of goods donated to fund a losing battle. The last bits of wealth remaining, to people who were only going to face a horrible time. I’d be poorer, for keeping them, not richer.”

“They didn’t know that,” he pointed out. “But, I see your point. Some of those pieces would make for a fine display, in the museum, though.”

“As if there’s not enough junk, in Margaret’s own attic,” she grinned. “Tell you what — if you’re willing to tote it up, you guys and Toni can pick over what you want, set aside anything you think must go on display, and sell the rest. Otherwise, it’s just more fill, under the new parking lot.” She scratched at a knuckle, as she spoke.

“And the money?” Tuck prompted.

“Don’t care what you do with that, either. Split it, three ways, if you like. Whatever you do, just make sure Toni gets a fair cut.”

“A fair cut, of what?” Toni asked, entering with a couple of plastic grocery bags in one hand and Willy’s sticky, grubby little paw, in the other.

“Nothin’”, Tuck drawled, scooping up the toddler, and setting him on his knee. “Just a couple hundred pounds of treasure, in the rectory cellar.”

“Not gold or silver, surely?”

“Less prosaic than that. It’s personal valuables. They were in that big strong box Will told you about.”

“Oh. Eww — no, thanks,” she replied with a grimace of disgust.

The men stared at her, as if she’d grown another nose, in the middle of her forehead, but Lisa laughed.

“I get Lisa’s dislike, for the idea,” Tuck said, “but not yours.”

“It’s just gross, Dad. It’s like grave robbing, or something.”

“Would you take cash?” Will challenged his wife, with a grin.

“Yeah. I’m not an idiot. I mean, it feels like grave robbing, to keep the goods, though I know it isn’t. Cash from a sale is just cash. Bring the rest of the groceries in, while I get dinner started, would you, honey?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll get this little heathen cleaned up,” Tuck volunteered. He rose, and inverted the child, to his screaming, laughing delight, before righting him again, to tote him off.

“I found Callie Lovejoy, in here,” Lisa confided, when the men were gone. She eyed Toni, expectantly.

“Was she fooling around with some preacher, too?” Toni quipped, as she started unloading the two bags she’d brought in.

“That’s not fair.” Lisa frowned at her stepdaughter. “She was as much Noah’s victim as anyone else.”

“I suppose,” Toni shrugged.

Her lack of interest seemed like karmic payback, for Lisa’s own unenthusiastic response to Tuck’s cigar case. Toni followed it up, with a pointed look at Lisa’s spread newspaper, the tin box, and the stacked portfolios, on the kitchen table.

Inwardly irritated, but outwardly meek, Lisa began to clear her things away. She’d wanted to read more, than the half page than she’d managed, but idle discussion of baubles and bric-a-brac had sucked the time.

“Can I help?” she asked, watching Toni, bags unloaded, don her apron.

“Not just now. Will can unload the rest of the bags.”

Lisa gave her a short nod, gathered her things, and retreated to the ‘granny flat’ that Tuck had tacked onto the main house. In an act of defiance, she left the box and its contents on their bistro sized table. Maybe Tucker would get the message. She’d warned him it would be too small.

The oatmeal formula lotion stung her hands, as she rubbed it in. It also highlighted the redness. Was it her imagination, or were the red places also getting puffy? Toni’s new dish soap wasn’t doing her any favors.

“But, boy, howdy! Don’t it cut that there grease, real good?” she drawled aloud, aping the accents of everyone else, in the family. She was in a foul mood. Well, there was a surefire cure, for that.

***

Luna greeted her, with a nicker, and ambled toward her, where she waited at the gate, with a lead rope. In the barn, Lisa fed the mare a carrot, cut into thirds.

“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got,” she chuckled softly, when Luna snorted, as if to ask why it wasn’t an apple. “Bucket ride?” she proposed, when Luna was done munching. “Yeah?”

Lisa slipped the bridle over the horse’s head, and, not bothering with blanket or saddle, led her to the overturned bucket she used as a mounting block.

It was the perfect late afternoon, for a ride. Most of the manic heat had gone out of the day, but there was plenty of light left. A breeze had come up, harbinger of the storms that were expected, through the night. Without dismounting, Lisa opened the near pasture gate, proceeded through it, closed it, and repeated the procedure, at the south side. Gil, as usual, didn’t wait for the gates, but chose to shinny under the fence.

She was unaware of Will and his grin, from where he stood, on the front porch. He’d taught her the maneuver, and she’d practiced it, for hours.

For a moment, she paused, and looked back at Tuck’s house. Tuck’s house. Toni’s kitchen. He shared all of these things with her, and she shared what she could, in return, but it never felt like enough.

Shaking the thoughts loose, if not off, she turned Luna toward the creek trail, with Gillie trotting at her heels. It was “strictly a walking trail” according to Tuck and Will, and she’d always adhered to that, seeing the wisdom. It was a broad and clear path, wide enough for two riders abreast, in most places. It was the exposed roots that made it a potential hazard for too swift a pace.

Lisa wasn’t in any hurry, nor was Luna. She’d been exercised today, and was in a mellow mood. Lisa, with in a voice that only a mother could love, or a horse, began to hum “Desperado”. A challenge to her vocals, but Luna wasn’t picky.

At the creek, Luna wanted to go in, of course.

“You have beautiful, clean water, in your stall, and you want to drink this,” she chided, sliding down from the mare’s back. In truth, though, she decided she wouldn’t mind cooling her toes, either. Lisa kicked off her tennies, and they waded in, together.

The creek bottom was soft and silty, here, so it was a surprise, when her toes encountered something hard, and slightly sharp. She lifted her foot carefully, and inspected the ball. Not cut. Curious, she bent and dug the object out of the mud, with her fingers, and swished it, in the water.

It was an arrowhead — a pink one. Lisa studied it, a moment, awed and pleased, before stashing it, in her waist pocket.

Now, her feet were wet. Ah, well. She scooped up her shoes, tied the laces together, and draped them around her neck. She led Luna to a rock that looked tall enough, peeked around it, for copperheads, and remounted.

Will was in the barn, when she returned. Since giving up real estate, Will practically lived in the barn.

“Found your flight plan, on the board.” He was referring to the horse/rider sign out board that graced a wall outside the barn. It helped them keep track of each other, and more to the point, the boarders. “Nice ride?”

“Very,” Lisa smiled, sliding down, and landing lightly enough, for an old girl. She checked Luna’s chest, out of habit — no way she was hot, or even warm, after their stroll. After swapping bridle for halter, she turned the mare into her stall, for the evening.

“Look what I found,” she fished the arrowhead out of her pocket, and dropped it into Will’s palm.

“Nice one. Pretty color.” He returned it to her. “You should take it over to the Chalice, and have Mandy put it on a cord, like Pa’s.”

“Maybe Toni should have it.”

“What for? It’s your find. Unless you’re picking up something ugly, from it?”

“No… It’s not that personal a thing. I glimpsed a deer, felt a hint of satisfaction at full bellies and a hide to trade. That’s all.”

“’All’”, he snorted.

“All,” she repeated, firmly, with a tiny smile, of her own. She offered him the arrowhead again.

“Nope. It’s yours, and Toni doesn’t need it. You’ve got to get over being so weird, about her.”

“I’m not weird!”

“You are. You’re still trying to get into her good graces, and it’s weird. You’re already in. I’ll prove it —” He reached into the top pocket of his shirt, and drew out a small, metal container. “Paw,” he commanded.

Lisa stuck out her left hand, palm up, to take the container, but Will shook his head.

“Other side.” He twisted the lid off, releasing musty, tarry smell. “It’s greasy, as hell, but Toni swears by it.” Grasping her hand lightly, but firmly, he began to apply the ointment, to the reddest spots, on her hand.

“Stinks, too.” Lisa wrinkled her nose. “That’s not my Mama’s Corn Husker’s.”

“Your Mama’s Corn Husker’s has alcohol in it,” he retorted. “This is for chapped udders. Not a good idea to irritate a chapped goat.” He finished one hand, and motioned for the other.

“I really can put ointment on my own hands.”

“Yeah, but will you?” He flashed her a grin. When he’d finished, he pulled a pair of white cotton gloves, out of the same pocket. “She sent these, too.”

“I don’t suppose she mentioned my own treasure find?”

“She did.”

“You’re not impressed, either.” Lisa looked away, to draw on the gloves, which fit. Of course. She and Toni were the same glove and ring size.

“I’m not not impressed.”

“For God’s sake, Will. Spill it.”

“Look. Toni loves you, and so do I. But, if you’re looking for approval from either one of us, you’re barking up the wrong tree, Lisa. She doesn’t want to encourage you, and neither do I. You’ve had enough of that ugly story. Leave it.”

It wasn’t a rejection, but it felt like one.

“Thanks for the first aid,” she said, hiding her hurt.

“Any time.” Will’s smile was genuine, though accented with a wink.