Copyright 1991 Aya Katz
FROM THE DIARY OF VERITY LACKLAND
Dr. Hicks came by today to check me out. It seems he had been by once when I was delirious. Not to cure, but only to observe, since Seth Cain wanted a full report. He made me give blood and urine samples. To check for substance abuse.
"Now, I don't normally make housecalls, but for Miss Anadora..." He kept shaking his head. "Mighty strange people."
"Is it true that Nabal's father went mad?" I asked him.
He was drawing out blood from my arm to a phial. I watched it fill, and he then he put a cotton thing on there. "Hold this," he said. He fiddled with the phial, marking my name and the date. "Now what's that you were asking, hon'?"
"Nabal's father, was he really crazy?"
Dr. Hicks pursed his lips. "Yeah. Crazy enough to mess with Sam, anyway. And that's pretty crazy." He started to put his things away. "Anyhow, the things they said about him at the competency hearing were true enough. None of it was trumped up or anything. Real shame, though. It was real hard on the Judge, you know. I felt awful bad for him. You know, it's not real pleasant, having to make a decision like that." He stooped down and put a bandaid on the cotton. "There now, you keep that on a while."
"What was Caleb like?" I asked.
"Well, now," Dr. Hicks took a moment to think. "They let me examine the body, see. And he had done such a good clean job. Not the sorts of botched up things you usually see. He was like that. You know, real thorough."
That wasn't exactly what I meant by the question. But in a way I suppose it was as much to the point as anything else.
Dr. Hicks started fiddling with his samples, arranging them carefully in his bag. "It was real hard on the Judge, though. He never got over it, you know what I mean."
I wanted to tell him that I didn't know, but he was all set to leave. "Get some rest," he said, patting me on the head. "Don't let them overwork you." I wasn't sure how I was supposed to take that. But he left before I could gauge his sincerity.
Shortly afterwards, Anadora came in. "You're in good health now," she said, "but it has weakened your system and that leech and his bleeding haven't helped matters much, so we will keep you in bed for a few days more. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself doing anything strenuous."
I frowned. Like what? Nabal hasn't been to see me since ... that day I missed the probation meeting. I think I no longer interest him. Or maybe he feels ashamed that for a split second he was almost nice to me. Almost imperceptibly nice. I've been replaying it in my mind to solace myself. But it's not much to go on.
Anadora began fluffing pillows. I watched her. She watched me watching her. Finally our eyes met. "You wanted to ask me something, child?"
I studied my hands. "Not really."
"There is nothing that leech can tell you that I can't," she said. "I am not just a healer, but a seer, too."
I smiled. "Then you already know what I want to ask."
"Yes," she nodded. "Just as the gods know what we mean to ask before we ask it. Yet they never answer, unless we ask it out loud."
"Really?" I was amused.
She nodded. "That has been my experience."
I played with a lock of my hair. "Okay. I was just wondering whether ..." I hesitated. "Does madness run in your family?"
She laughed. "Well, in a manner of speaking, it does." She sat down on the bed. "You want me to tell you about Caleb."
I nodded.
"It all began with Samuel Beck... Quite a remarkable man, really. An uncommon man." She seated herself on the side of my bed. "Samuel Beck was born back in the days when there was no County Judge and everyone did whatever he pleased."
"What do you mean, there was no County Judge?" I asked.
Anadora held her own. "Just so. It did not last long, but it has left its mark on this County ever since. The Cabeza de Vacas had been County Judges for generations, since before Texas was a sovereign state. Canez Cabeza de Vaca founded the settlement here and served as its first judge, under Spain's dominion. Of course, under the Spanish the County was called an ayuntimiento and the office he held was alcalde."
"I thought that meant mayor," I said.
"It's an administrative and judicial office rolled into one. The Spanish did not go in overmuch for separation of powers. Which is just as well, since it rarely works. This combination of executive and judicial powers at the local level was retained by the Republic, more or less intact, with the exception of the change of nomenclature from ayuntimiento to county and from alcalde to county judge. And since Jafnez, Caleb's father, fought valiantly on behalf of the Republic, he regained the office of county judge after all the dust had settled."
I thought about it. "You mean, this fellow" I had trouble pronouncing it, so I didn't bother to try, "Nabal's great grandfather fought against the Spanish?"
Anadora shook her head. "Not against the Spanish -- against the Mexicans."
Now I was really confused. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Why would he do that? I mean, he was hispanic, wasn't he?"
"As Hispanic as any Spaniard," she said. "Which is not saying much perhaps. After all, for all the talk about Hispanidad one may hear, the Spanish have existed as a distinct nation for less than a thousand years. And everybody's ancestors before that had to have been something else. But in any event, Canez, who was descended from Nu·ez, could trace his title as far back as the original Cabeza de Vaca, who was given that name by the King for services rendered in driving out the Moors. Which has nothing whatever with the newly formed upstart government of Mexico." Anadora seemed to have lost her train of thought, because she looked away a moment and when she spoke again she said: "In any event Sam Beck died a few years ago. Not quite seven years to his death. He was a brilliant man who led a long, destructive life filled with purpose."
I was getting confused. First we were talking about county structures, then were were driving out the Moors. Now, this Beck person died during the past decade. "How old was he?" I asked.
"Ninety-nine. Although for the last few years, he was not very active. He didn't need to be. He'd already set everything in motion."
But I was still fixated on the faithless alcalde. "He was really a traitor to his people, then?"
"Who?"
"Haf..."I still couldn't pronounce it. "The one who was an alcalde and joined the rebels."
"Nonsense. He was a hero of the Republic. The Texians, those were his people."
"At UT they made me take a Texas history course," I said. "Of course, I never got to finish because I was ... detained here." I was going to say shanghaied, but thought better of it. "The instructor said that the Republic of Texas was a ruse so that the American settlers could detach Texas from Mexico without involving the U.S. in a war. That sovereignty was just a sham."
Anadora clucked. "I understand they're all Jacobins in Austin."
I wasn't sure what she meant by that. I have since then noticed that she uses this term as some kind of archaic shorthand for "communist." Which term I suppose is shorthand for a whole host of things, too.
"In any event," she continued, "While Jafnez did swear an oath to Spain, he never submitted himself to Mexico. Naturally, between 1821 and 1836 he lost his official title. But that was not an insurmountable difficulty. He was dedicated to the cause of Texas sovereignty. The first constitution of the Republic offered so much promise. No corporations, not even for the purpose of banking. Why, we even minted our own money locally. Jafnez had no more wish to serve America than Mexico. But while he never intended to join the United States or the Confederacy, when it was forced on him he distinguished himself, rose to the rank of Colonel and died in the battle of Palmito Hill in 1865. It was a great victory. Unfortunately, Lee had already surrendered. But then, such is life. That would have made Othniel, Caleb's father, the natural successor to the judgeship. Except that the yanks destroyed the office, simply wrote it out of the Texas constitution. And anyway, under the provisional government and afterwards, under the fourteenth amendment, Othniel, who though he was only a youth at the time had also served in the confederate army would be disqualified from holding any office. That was the state of affairs that led to the rise of Samuel Beck."
It was strange to hear her, she of the super-refined Boston accent, pronounce the word "Yanks" with such hatred.
"I've heard of this Beck before," I said. "I think Pipa mentioned him. Did he run for office?"
"No. Nothing outside the Party. But he did serve as County Chairman for many years. Officially his claim to fame was as minister at the First Baptist Church. That was his powerbase. But he came in on the resurgence of the Democrat party, when despite all the abuses and corruption enforced by the North, the locals decided to submit no more. Of course, all the men of honor had been stripped of any power, so that it took scoundrels like Beck to beat the Yanks at their own game. He was good at that, and in this capacity, he served the County well. The only problem was the tyranny he inflicted from within."
I shook my head. "If he didn't hold any office, how could he tyrannize anybody?"
Anadora smiled, that enigmatic look she shared with Nabal. "Why, I should think that would be obvious. He was never elected. He could not be ejected. And any abuses could always be laid at the feet of his puppets. Anyway, the majority of the County belonged to the First Baptist Church, middle class and white trash alike. And they would vote for whomsoever he chose. He gave stirring orations, I understand, though I seldom had occasion to hear them."
"How do you know all this? Were you there when it was happening?" I asked. "I mean, when exactly did you leave Madrid?"
She laughed. "My child, I was not there when Rome was built, nor when it was sacked, I was not there for the expulsion of the Moors from Spain, I was not there for the discovery of America, I wasn't there for the Civil War, neither did I see Sam rise to power. He was forty-eight years my senior."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to imply that you were old or anything. But you make it all sound as though it happened just yesterday."
"Child," she said softly, "civilized folk are distinguished from the rabble by memories which extend beyond their own lifetimes." She patted my knee. "But Sam lived long enough for me to come to know him well. We were rivals, he and I. He feared me more than he feared Caleb."
"His rival at what? Politics?"
She shook her head. "No, of course not. Not politics."
"What then?"
"Religion."
I rolled my eyes. Somehow, I should have known that it would come to that. "Religion?" I repeated.
"The people used to come to me from miles around so that I might read their fortunes and deliver their babies. The doctor didn't mind the competition half so much as Sam did. Eventually, it stopped, when he pressured Saul about it. They cracked down on the practice of medicine without a license. And they zoned out fortune tellers." She sighed. "Of course, when they really need me, nothing can keep them away. I delivered Saul's youngest child, long after Caleb was dead."
"When did all that happen? I mean, about the changes."
Anadora changed position on the bed. "Well, first Sam tried establishing his sons as County Judge and Commissioner, but they took bribes. That is, they were so obvious about it that everyone complained. It wouldn't have been so bad if they had taken a bribe here and there and maintained decorum. Nobody would have minded that. It was the way they did it. Anyway, there was a general outcry and the people demanded that Sam nominate a real County Judge. He was furious."
"Why?"
"He may have harbored the hope of founding a dynasty. Anyway, it undermined his power. He felt that they were ungrateful, after all he had done for them. They should have been contented with a County Chairman. They shouldn't clamor after an actual candidate."
"Those were the Democrats, right?" I asked, not feeling quite clear on all the terminology.
"Yes," she said. "Texans, reclaiming local control. That's what they called it."
"What about the Republicans, didn't they have a candidate?"
She laughed. "There were no Republicans. Everything was decided at the county convention. Behind closed doors. Still is."
"Was Caleb a Democrat?"
She shook her head. "We stayed out of it. Caleb despised politicians."
I blinked. "Wait a minute. Didn't you just tell me that the Cabeza de Vacas themselves had been politicians for generations? That they ran for office?"
She was adament. "No! They never ran for office. They were appointed at first, then elected. But they never ran. They didn't have to. A Cabeza de Vaca has never shaken the hand of a man he did not honor, nor have we ever gone about kissing the bottoms of unwashed infants or promising the multitudes bread and circuses. Never. And when we ruled by the rabble's sufferance, it was not because we flattered them, but because they needed us." She got up from the bed, frowning with fury. "Haven't you been listening at all. Politicians indeed!"
At this she left me. So I still don't know how Caleb went mad. I wonder whether he was violent. Was he the one who'd left the scars on Nabal's back?
............
I asked Pilar about Caleb, tonight when she brought me my dinner. She said: "No, Miss Verity. It is not nice to speak of such things."
I shrugged. "Anadora doesn't seem to mind talking about it."
Pilar said: "Then you do not need to talk to me."
"The only problem is," I said, "that it turns into stories about people driving the Moors out of Spain and the discovery of America and Civil War heroes and things like that."
Pilar suppressed a smile. "The Cabeza de Vacas have much pride, but not so much luck." She centered my bed lamp on the nightstand. "They are plagued with ... mala suerte."
I suppose that's true. Nabal is a little short on humility. And yet ... he's constantly being humbled. And David, who is so accessible, I've never seen him shamed once. How does that work?
I read in the newspaper that David is back in town. I haven't seen him since I left for Carmel. He probably doesn't even know I exist. Which is funny thing about warm, kind people. What is better, I wonder, to be despised and known, or to be liked and forgotten? And why are those the only choices we get?
"Was there any warning?" I asked Pilar. "Or did he just snap one day?"
"Oh, it was terrible when they came for him," she said. "Because you see, there was no warning. He had been through the hearing, and even though the jury found that he was loco, the judge said he could go home. That the Se·ora could take care of him. And then they came, without warning, and that's why he struggled, because he was unprepared. It was an awful scene. The boy, hurling himself at them, pounding at them with his little fists, so that they had to restrain him, too. And the Se·ora spouting curses."
"I don't understand."
"The Judge. He just changed his mind. There was no warning."
I couldn't get her to explain anything further. I have the feeling she's afraid of Nabal. He can't muzzle his mother, but he can cow everybody else.
******
I'm officially all better now. Which means I have to attend AA. I guess Nabal convinced them not revoke my probation over the poisoning incident. Or at least, so far, so good. It's a horrible thing when you find yourself feeling thankful for the bondage you have as opposed to the even worse type that awaits you. I've even stopped hoping to be released. I can't even imagine what it would be like to be free anymore.
Melinda made us go attend a political debate, rather than AA this time. She told us Saul and David would be there and from the way she emphasized their names, I could tell she's a strong supporter of David's. She doesn't even try to appear non-partisan. "They'll be discussing important issues," she said. "Issues that affect everyone in the County. And especially those of you who have more regular contact with the Court."
"That's real neat," Randy Tander said. "Like, are they going to lower the probation fees? 'Cause like, um, you know, I've got seven DWIs and three for marijuana possession, and like, this is ridiculous, you know. I mean, like if I get any more DWIs, man, I'm going under, you know. Like, I can barely afford cigarettes as it is, man."
Melinda tapped her foot nervously, but she has this policy of being positive about everything that goes on there, so she said: "Well, Randy, that's a good point. Maybe you can raise it at the debate, if they have a question and answer session."
"Will there be free beer?" someone asked.
This one really stumped her and for a moment the room broke out into the mingled voices of the penitent trying to make out their own answer to that.
The guy sitting next to me, Jeb, said: "The Judge is real stingy, always trying to kiss up to the taxpayers at the expense of everybody else. Why everytime I go up before him, that's all I ever hear. The goddam taxpayers and what a burden I am to the decent folk of this here County. Now who the hell is he talking about? What taxpayers? Half the property taxes in this County are paid by the Cabeza de Vacas and we know how decent they are. So if it's up to him, I bet there's no beer. But maybe David will get us some. He's a nice guy, you know." "What do the Cabeza de Vacas do that's so indecent?" I asked.
Jeb leaned over a little closer and I could smell the liquor on his breath. He lowered his voice confidentially. "Well, the way I hear it, they're real into animal husbandry." I wasn't sure I understood the accusation, but he elaborated. "I heard tell they sleep with cows."
I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. I didn't know whether to take it literally, or as a personal insult.
Anyway, the long and the short of it was that we all had to go to the debate, which was being held at the Brown 'N Serve. The room was crowded, and they did serve punch, but it wasn't alcoholic. There were also cookies. The meeting was sponsored by the local chapter of Daughters of the Republic of Texas.
I stood alone, trying to remain unnoticed. There was a lot of smoke and the room was too stuffy. I was using my program to fan my face. I tried not to meet anybody's eyes so that they would not think I invited conversation, but didn't quite manage it. Across the room I accidentally spotted Eb, who was in the process of raising a cup of punch to his mouth. But our eyes met, and he lit up and smiled and came right over to where I was, to talk.
"Why, howdy there, Verity. Been a while. How're you doin'?" He seemed disingenuously open. But then he's always been that way with me. He takes everything that goes on, all the injustice and the dirt, for granted, and since he feels no revulsion at any of it, he comes off as well adjusted and benevolent. I mean, he really is benevolent, under the circumstances. It's just that the circumstances ought to horrify anyone with a conscience.
I told him I'd been fine.
"I heard you took ill," he said.
I nodded. "Yes. But I'm fine now."
"Well, we've missed you here, you know. Since you've been gone."
I shook my head. "You've got to be kidding. Not enough broken dishes?"
"Now, now, you were getting much better towards the end, there." He grew serious. "I mean it now, if there's anything I can do for you, you just give me a call."
That was strange. I frowned. "Eb, can you tell me about Caleb?"
"Who?"
"Nabal's father. Why did they commit him?"
"Oh, that." He dragged his vowels out. "That was on account of Oggie Heimlich."
"Oggie Heimlich had him committed?" I asked.
"Nah. Sam had him committed. But it was on account of Oggie. Total idiot, that Oggie. Real dumb. Never should have bothered."
"What did he do?"
"Well, see, he tried tried to run for office. As a Republican, see. He was a real whiner, you know. Always yammering about how everything wasn't fair."
"And Caleb supported him?"
"Nah. Not Caleb. Caleb despised him. Everybody did. Nobody voted for him. Well, maybe a few folks, but hardly enough for anything. The way I see it, we should have let him well enough alone. But Sam, he was real thorough, you know. Didn't believe in any halfway measures. He used to say, when the Lord delivers an enemy into our hands, it isn't our place to spare him. If the Lord wanted him spared, why he'd spare him himself, see?"
I laughed. "Do you believe that?"
Eb shrugged. "Oh, I don't go in for religion much. I'm just telling you how Sam was. He kept saying everything was like a holy war. Like in the Bible. And if you spare Satan's servants, why that's like spitting in God's face. So he got the Judge to condemn Oggie's farm."
I was stunned. "How did he do that?"
"Well, not the whole farm. Just enough for it to be practically useless. Said they were going to build a waterplant on it. Eminent domain, don't you know. That's when Caleb stepped in. He said the price they awarded Oggie was too low. He made a big stink about it. Which was really odd, cause he never got involved in that sort of thing before. So that's when Sam had him committed. Mind you, Caleb was crazy as a coot since the day he was born, it just didn't bother anybody none up till then."
"Oh." I couldn't think of anything better to say and Eb seemed to expect a reaction. "Then I won't be sorry to see the Judge lose the election."
Eb shook his head. "It were none of his doing. He was real sorry about the whole thing. After that, he was never the same. Couldn't sleep nights. Had nightmares and such, started spending his evening over here. Couldn't find any peace till I gave David the gig here. Used to come to hear David play. His favorite song was Red River Valley. Used to have old Dave singing it over and over again. Got so everybody else was sick of it." Eb leaned in a little closer. "'Course, some folk say Miss Anadora cast a hex on him, that's why he was so troubled." His voice went back to its normal relaxed tone. "But I don't go in for that sort of thing."
It was about at this point that Abner sauntered over and interposed himself into the conversation. "What y'all gabbing about."
I looked at Abner. He still regards me as though I were a piece of meat for inspection, but it's true that now he no longer touches me. Another man's meat, it seems. "We were talking about how the Judge had Caleb committed," I said.
"Is that so?" Abner tilted his head a little, taking that subtly threatening attitude of his. "Now who's been filling your head with talk like that? Don't you know, girl, that the Judge went out on a limb for that heathen? Don't you know that he nearly lost everything, on account of him?"
I shrugged. "No. What do you mean?"
"Well, the jury found on the factual issues that old Caleb was NCM, right? And I can't say as I disagree. But the Judge, he just made Sam the guardian of his estate and let that old hag be his personal guardian. 'Course, she wasn't old, back then. Quite a looker, actually. Anyway, the Judge, he sent them home, one loony in the care of the other. Which, under the circumstances, was mighty generous, see. That's the Judge's problem, you know. Too soft. But he's a good Judge all the same. We've never had a better one in this County. Not ever that I recall."
"But he did send Caleb to the asylum," I said.
"Well, the next day, ol' Sam, he comes in and he chews the Judge up real good. Who does he think he is? Sam yells. Who does he think put him there? He was real loud too, cause the Judge saw him in chambers, but you could here clear out to the hall. You were a nobody and I brought you up and made you Judge of this here County. And this is how you repay me and God and the good people of this County, by sparing that deviant? And the Judge says, but I made you guardian over his estate. You can have the ranch and the cattle and the money. And Sam he's furious. He says, do you think I care about money? Do you think God gives a damn about money? And he starts to walk out. So the Judge stops him, he says look, I was wrong. I see I was wrong now. Don't walk out on me. And Sam, he's hard as flint. He says, sure as hell I'm getting out of here. You done turned your back on me and God and the people and I'm turning my back on you. Now the Judge doesn't want to let him go, so he grabs Sam by the back of his jacket and it tears, clear down the seam. And Sam says, sure as you tore this here jacket, I'm gonna tear the Judgeship away from you and give it to a better man."
Abner paused here, maybe for effect. But since I didn't say anything he went on: "So if Nabal's been telling you the Judge done his Daddy wrong, you just tell him ..."
"Nabal hasn't been telling me anything," I said. "But if the Judge was such a fair man, who put Caleb in the asylum?"
"Well, the Judge finally got Sam to go back in chambers. And the Judge says: what do you want me to do? And Sam says give Caleb to me. And he takes out a judgment he's got all typed up and he says to the Judge sign here. And the Judge signs. And Sam says, there, that'll teach them to prey on our womenfolk and our children and to offend God with their sick ways. Let his woman mourn now, let his son know shame."
I gulped. Abner has a strange way of talking, but he can certainly get the point across. I wanted to ask him what all this business of preying on womenfolk entailed.
But Abner kept at it: "And you know that 'better man' he was talking about? The one to replace the Judge? That's ol' Dave here. So the next time you get all hot for the boy wonder," I started to protest but he cut me off, "now, now, I seen you looking at him with those cow eyes. That's all right, they all do. But the next time you do, just keep in mind that he's Sam's boy. Sam chose him, Sam groomed him. And like as not he'll do what Sam would have wanted. So if you have any loyalty at all to the man you spread your thighs for, you'll stay clear of Dave. And you'll support the Judge."
I recoiled from his language. How is it that even when he's exhorting me to be faithful to Nabal, I feel as though he's molesting me? I shuddered, feeling his psychic hand on my flesh. Anyway, that's got be the strangest political pitch I ever heard. Not that I've heard many.
About then, a tow-headed little boy ran up to us yelling "Abner! Abner! Daddy wants you."
Abner gave him a little pat on the head. "You ain't supposed to be running like that in here. Why, look you nearly upset Pipa's tray."
"Daddy wants you," the boy repeated. He pointed toward one of the inner private dining rooms. "He wants you right away."
Abner smiled. "You stay with Uncle Eb, now, hear, and I'll go see what he wants." He sauntered off in that off balance gait of his.
The boy looked up at me, a little belligerently. "Hi," he finally said.
"Hi."
Eb did the honors. "This here's the Judge's youngest," he said to me. "This is Miss Verity. She's staying at Carmel."
The boy looked up at me with eyes that missed nothing. "Oh, you're the new girlfriend. I heard about you." He pursed his lips, assessing me. Then he said. "That Nabal, he's not too good in the sack, huh?"
Eb looked embarrassed.
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
"Mickey told me. She's my sister. She knows everything." He paused a moment. "I hate her."
I tried to sound unconcerned. "Well, it's a natural enough sentiment," I said.
Eb tried to distract the boy by pointing out that the Judge, flanked by Abner and a young man who was identified to me later as his eldest son Jon, was making his way up to the speaker's table. The boy went to join his family.
"He's usually away at school," Eb explained to me. "His mother died when he was all of four years old and since the Judge is so moody, they thought it best to send him away as soon as he was school age."
At this point David appeared, too, with Mickey in tow, Followed closely by Mickey's new beau, Paul Ellis. That was a strange sight. And after that, the ceremonies more or less got under way. There was the pledge to the flag, led by some woman from the DORT. "...one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." At the first, I didn't pay much attention and recited it automatically, as in grade school. But at some point I started noticing the words, and the irony hit me. This was the conqueror's flag, and the oath of fealty exacted from the conquered. Their great grandfathers and grandfathers had fought to keep that flag from waving over their land. But they had failed. And now their descendants gave it solemn, sanctimonious lip service. I tried to imagine Nabal making that pledge, but I couldn't. And yet he must have, because they made him go to school.
The invocation was given by Reverend Nathan Proctor, of the First Baptist Church. Sam Beck's successor, I suppose.
Then another woman from the DORT started making the introductions, and while she spoke I sat there looking at the Judge and David. They're both handsome, really, which I suppose helps if you're a politician. Actually, it probably helps even if you're not a politician. The Judge is taller, with a stern, distinguished look. Silver hair and steel grey eyes. But David's got him beat. It's not the red hair, or the gorgeous blue eyes, or even the model's strictly regular features. It's not the broad shoulders or the super slim hips or the muscles which are proportionate and unobtrusive, yet still apparent. He's a natural. At everything. You can tell by just looking at him. And best of all, there isn't a hint of pride in his bearing. Just a regular guy.
The woman was bringing her speech to a close, and was about to let the Judge take the podium when David whispered something in her ear. She looked confused, then acquiesced, and leaning down toward the mike, she said: "Just a minute. David Smith has a special announcement."
I glanced at the Judge. He was seething.
David took the podium. "Fellow Texans, Vacuum Countians, neighbors. I'll be brief, as I know what a bore it is to listen to long speeches, having heard enough of them myself." There was scattered laughter at this. "I've been away for a while, for reasons beyond my control. Because there is no place I'd rather be than Vacuum County." They cheered this. "But while I was away I heard some rumors that I didn't understand, and that's why I agreed to come here today." He paused. "I want you to know that I have been acquainted with Judge Jones for the past ... well, all my life really. And this County has never known a better Judge. He's hard working, consciencious, unselfish and dedicated. And I have always felt proud to have him as my Judge. As I hope you have been proud to have him as yours. But while I was away, I heard a terrible rumor. I heard that someone was running against him." There was a murmur at this. "And I can't tell you how angry that made me. After he's given his life to this County, to bring you law and order and peace and prosperity, justice from within and security from without, keeping those greedy Austin politicians out of our till, I couldn't imagine anyone who had the gall to think he was a better man than our Judge Jones. So I said to Randy, who came and told me this news, I said, 'Tell me, Randy, who is this man who's running against our judge, so that I can go pull him down a peg or two.' And Randy said to me: 'Why, you are.'" There was more murmuring at this, louder and more intense. "Well, I'm here to tell you, once and for all, that I am not running against Judge Jones. And I never will run for the office of County Judge, not so long as he holds it. And I'll take on any man who means to oust him." And this is where their reactions got out of hand. "No!" some of them shouted. And others started chanting "David, David" in a rhythm that decelerated as the chant grew louder. David left the speakers' table, followed by Mickey. The Judge was furious.
Eventually, things calmed down a little. Lou Ann spotted me by the door. "Well, that was some debate, huh?"
"Right," I muttered.
"You want to go get a drink?" she asked.
"No," I said. "I want to stick around, see if I can speak to David."
"Good luck," she chimed and waved me goodbye.
She was right. There were lots of people crowded around him. The Judge and Abner were standing alone on the other side of the room.
I had to wait another thirty minutes before it had cleared, and I thought I would catch David at the door, but now that the room was empty, he turned toward the Judge standing on the other side of the room with Abner. None of them seemed to know I was there. Well, maybe Abner.
David said: "I don't want your job. I would never run against an incumbent. I told you that before."
"That was a dirty trick," the Judge said. His voice was quiet, but sullen.
"It wasn't a trick. I mean it. Let me come back. Like old times. Stop trying to have me arrested."
"Give me back those records," the Judge said.
"I can't," David said. "I don't have them anymore."
The Judge's eyes were full of silent torture. I could see that from across the room. "Then you better get out of this County and fast boy," he said. "I can't be held accountable for what might happen."
David shrugged. He turned to go. That's when I cornered him.
"I want to talk to you, David," I said.
He smiled down at my face, trying to place me, I could tell. But he remembered by himself, which is a point in his favor. "Verity. Well, it's been a long time. Are you all right?"
It's odd, but much as I was set to doubt his sincerity, looking in his eyes I could tell that he really wanted to know. That he cared.
"Oh, I'm okay," I said, shrugging. "I'm ... living at Carmel, now, you know."
He nodded. "Yes, I heard about that. Are you sure you're okay?" There was no judgment implied, only compassion.
"Yeah. I'm okay." I swallowed. "Look, David, what I wanted to ask you is ... did you know that Abby was planning to poison Nabal?"
"What!?"
"There was a box of candy she bought him for his birthday. I ate some of it. It was poisoned."
David frowned, in disbelief. "He's trying to kill you now!"
I shook my head. "No. He didn't know about it."
David became very angry. "I can't believe it! He's not content to kill her, he has to trump up murder charges against her after she's dead. And he's using you to do it."
"No," I said. "He wouldn't do that. He loved her."
"Loved her?" David's tone burned with acid. "He didn't even know her. He had no idea what she thought or felt or wanted and he never took the trouble to find out. He didn't love her. He owned her."
"Never mind," I said. "I just had to be sure that you weren't in on it, that's all. Now I know."
David shook his head. "You'd better get out of there before he kills you, too. They're a cruel family, Verity. His grandfather once locked my great Aunt Beulabelle in a room for seventeen years and wouldn't let her out. They're inhuman. He doesn't like women, you know. He doesn't like anybody, really. Abby told me that he said to her once, out of the blue, that he wished a pestilence would strike down everyone in the County, and leave only the two of them. That the others weren't worthy to live."
I wanted to laugh. How preposterously childish. But I wish he had said that to me.
"He's using you," David said.
I thought about that. "Yeah." I nodded. "Yeah."
David looked at his watch. "I've got to go. But I want you to think about what I said. And if you ever need any help, you can always reach me through Joe." He patted my head. "You're a nice person, Verity. I don't want anything to happen to you."
I nodded and he took off. I stood there thinking about it. The way David had looked at me, I felt like a nice person, too. When Nabal looks at you, it's as though he's testing for every little flaw, every weakness that might eventually lead you to betray him, or yourself. With David, it's just the opposite. He looks at you expecting to find the good, and does find it. Maybe that's why it's so pleasant to be around him. He makes you recognize the good in you, forgetting all about the bad. But that isn't really honest, is it? Because the bad's still there, all the same.
There were footsteps behind me.
I turned, and the Judge was standing there, looking around, confused and disoriented. "This was bound to happen," he said. "They both cursed me. She because I'd killed her man and Sam because I'd set him free. She cursed me with death and destruction and the loss of my progeny, but that was nothing compared to Sam's curse. For he promised eternal damnation ... and loss of office." He shook his head. "Now it's all coming true."
He was actually looking at me, although I doubt that he knew who I was. "Well," I offered, "maybe pagan and Christian curses wipe each other out."
He shook his head. "I don't think it works that way." He was perfectly serious. There wasn't a touch of irony in his voice or demeanor. "All I ever wanted was to be a good judge." He said it to no one in particular. Then, examining me more closely, he said: "Miss, could you please help me find my car. I don't quite remember where I put it."
I looked around for the Sheriff, but he was nowhere in sight. So I said: "Okay, Judge," He took my arm and I led him to the parking lot.
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