Summer of the Redeemers Read online

  There was the sound of something big shifting around in the darkness. Picket lost interest in the cat and turned her attention to the interior of the barn. Her ears perked forward. Something cool touched the backs of my arms and made my teeth clench. That barn was so scary. It was almost as if it breathed, waiting for me to walk inside. Waiting for a chance …

  I forced myself to walk to the open door, where a shaft of light stretched deep into the gloom. As my eyes adjusted I could see four horse heads sticking out of the first stalls. They were all looking at me. With their bodies hidden behind the doors, it was a creepy picture. It was like their heads were disembodied, hanging over the stall doors.

  Then I saw her. She was sitting on a cement block at the end of the barn, up against the right wall. Light from the west side of the barn poured in through the barred windows and fell in these slatted trapezoid patterns across her face. She was wearing dark clothes and her blond hair was spun gold in the intense June light. Her shirt was sleeveless, and her slender arms showed muscles. She was staring straight at me and didn’t make an effort to move.

  Deep in her throat, Picket growled. “Easy,” I whispered. I couldn’t tell if it was the horses or the woman that made Picket anxious. We were all frozen in place, horses and woman staring at me and me and Picket staring back.

  “I’m Rebekah Rich from up the road.” My voice echoed in the barn. It almost made me step backward into the full protection of the sun. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the barn, and the woman shifted, putting more of her face in the light. She had brown eyes that seemed to catch the light and send it up the barn to me.

  “Welcome, Rebekah,” she said. The features of her oval face never changed expression. Her skin was unmarred by freckles or any other marks. “I’ll bet you’ve wanted a horse all your life.”

  Her voice was slower than mine, tinged with some strange accent that I couldn’t place. She wasn’t Jexville, that was for sure.

  “When I was a young girl like you, all I could think about was horses. But my mother didn’t want me to ride. She was afraid I’d be hurt.”

  She stood up and walked toward me, stopping in the next pattern of light. Her blond hair was shoulder-length and tangled-looking, as if it had been whipped by the wind while she was on the back of a galloping stallion. She took another five paces and stopped in the next pool of light.

  “I don’t know why mamas always think they can keep their babies safe by never letting them experience life. Do you?”

  I thought my throat had rusted closed, but my voice was strong. “No.” I gathered my courage. It was necessary to tell her. “My mother would skin me if she knew I was here.”

  The woman’s laughter was soft and rich and easy, like water over rocks. It made me smile too.

  “She must love you very much,” she said. “Isn’t it odd how something as wonderful as love can be so smothering?”

  She didn’t really expect an answer, I could tell by the way she asked the question. Besides, to answer honestly would have made me feel as if I’d injured Effie, and Mama Betts, and even Daddy. This woman understood, and I didn’t have to say anything.

  “Would you like to ride?”

  My fingers almost lost their hold on Picket’s collar.

  “Go ahead, let the dog loose. I’ve got fourteen cats out here, but they’ve all gone up in the loft.” She motioned for me to lift my hand from Picket. “She’s a fine-looking dog too. Very smart. I’ve got five dogs, but they’re in the house. I had to give them something to make them sleep on the trip down here. They probably won’t wake up for a while.”

  “Picket may chase the cats.”

  “Let her. They need the exercise.”

  Her laughter seemed to dance in the sunlight. My fingers slipped from Picket’s collar, and she was trotting down the middle of the barn, stopping at the first horse to sniff and explore. She seemed perfectly at home.

  “Well, do you want to ride?”

  I could tell by the sunlight that it was getting late. Very late. Mama Betts would be waiting on the potatoes. They were more than likely destined for potato salad, and I should be getting home with them. They had to be washed and peeled and boiled and then chilled.

  “Can I just sit on one?”

  “I have five more horses that I’ll get at the end of the week. These four are my best. Which one appeals to you?”

  The entire time I’d been talking, I’d been noticing this one horse, middle stall on the left. A white blaze started between her eyes and moved down her nose to end in a curl over the left nostril.

  “So it’s Chameleon, is it?” There was approval in her voice. “A good choice. I see you have an eye for horseflesh. Cammie is perfect for you.”

  “You named her after a lizard?” She was such a beautiful animal to be named for a lizard.

  “She can change her looks.”

  “How?”

  “Well, in the show ring she’s all fire and flash, but when we’re working, she’s very reliable.”

  “Where did you come from?” The question was rude, but it popped out before I could stop it. “I mean, I live just up the road. I’ve always lived there, my entire life.”

  “I’m from Cleveland. Not the city in Ohio. I’m from the Mississippi Delta. You know anything about the Delta?”

  I knew there were cotton plantations and rich folks, and poor Negroes. Since this woman was white, it followed that she was rich. That and the fact that she had nine horses. What was she doing on Kali Oka Road?

  “My parents died in a car accident. I didn’t want to stay in Cleveland, so I decided to move around. It’s not so easy with nine horses, fourteen cats and five dogs. Before you ask, my name is Nadine. Nadine Andrews. You call me Nadine.”

  “Where’s your husband?” She was older than I’d first thought. There were tiny lines around her eyes and mouth. She’d walked up a little closer, and I could see that her hair had a funny cast to it too. And it was considerably darker close to her head.

  “I don’t need a husband. Where’s yours?”

  “I’m too young to have one.” She was smiling, and I could see she was teasing me.

  “Well, I’ve had three, and none of them suited me. My advice to you is do without as long as you can.”

  I almost asked her if all three of her husbands had died, like her parents, but I knew that would be rude too. Besides, she’d turned away and had picked up a halter from beside Cammie’s stall. With practiced moves she slipped it over the horse’s head, unlatched the door and led Cammie out into the center of the barn. In a few seconds she had the horse tied on both sides to ropes hanging in the barn. She was an enormous horse, bigger than any I’d ever seen before in my life. I couldn’t see over her back—withers was the correct term I’d learned from all of my reading—and I was tall for my age.

  From inside what I’d supposed was the tack room she returned with a basket full of brushes and supplies. She explained the different combs and brushes and showed me how to use them, and then how to saddle the horse. The little saddle was light enough for me to carry, even though I had to stand on a cement block to put it on Cammie’s back. As much as I was learning and enjoying myself, I couldn’t forget that I was due home.

  “Maybe I’d better wait until later to ride, Mrs…. Nadine.” We had Cammie saddled and bridled, but it was five o’clock at least.

  “Mama gonna fuss?”

  “I’m supposed to be getting some potatoes for supper. She’ll be waiting for them.”

  “Jump up on Cammie for a few minutes, and I’ll drive you home.”

  “No!”

  She laughed, easy and deep.

  “I mean, I couldn’t put you to that trouble, Mrs. Andrews.” I’d really stepped in it, but I knew from looking at her that Effie and Mama Betts would take an instant dislike. She wasn’t like them, or anyone else on Kali Oka. Nadine Andrews was not going to fit in.

  “It’s Nadine, and I’ll drop you off before we get to your house. Th
at way your folks won’t see you consorting with me.”

  My face burned. She knew exactly why I couldn’t let her take me home.

  “Listen, Rebekah, I gave up a long time ago worrying about whether folks approved of me or not. The truth is, I’ve got enough money to do whatever I damn well please.” She cupped her hands beside the horse, and I put my foot in them. Two seconds later, I was in the saddle.

  It was better than I’d ever dreamed. Cammie shifted beneath me, and I felt it. My body went right along with her. My fingers tangled in her mane until Nadine handed me the reins and showed me how to hold my fingers so that they worked as springs against the horse’s mouth. Then she walked me out in the yard and turned me loose.

  Picket danced beside me, as eager as I was. In a matter of minutes I’d mastered walking and turning. Cammie was a dream. In the sun her coat was a deep brown. Nadine called her a mahogany bay, with two white stockings on her back legs. She was better than anything I’d ever imagined. We trotted, and even though I bounced for a while, I finally got the idea of posting.

  “You have a real talent, Rebekah. You and Cammie seem to have a special bond.”

  I felt it. It was everything I’d ever wanted. Black Stallion, King of the Wind, Silver Birch. The potatoes and Mama Betts and Effie disappeared. There was only the sensation of moving with Cammie, of riding high in the sun and the afternoon, of Picket trotting beside us and of Nadine’s smile of approval.

  “You’d better call it a day and get home.”

  Nadine’s words brought me back to hard reality. It was at least five-thirty. Before Nadine could help, I slid from Cammie’s back, just as I’d read in my books.

  “Perfect dismount. This time I’ll untack her, because we’re in a hurry. But from now it’s your responsibility.”

  “I can come back?” Although my dread of going home was multiplying with each second, the thought of riding again gave me a jolt of pure bliss.

  “I hope you’ll come and take some lessons from me. I’d love to teach you.”

  “Maybe.” I knew Mama would never give me money for riding lessons. She’d been trying to coerce me into piano for years, and I’d held out. Horses were out of the question.

  “You could work for your lessons.”

  Nadine showed me the door to magic and then gave me the key. Somehow I’d manage to have them. My hand lingered on Cammie’s warm shoulder as Nadine removed saddle and bridle and returned her to her stall. In a few moments we had unhitched her truck and were bumping over her driveway to the road.

  At the Welfords’ fence I stopped her and got out to get the potatoes and okra. She drove to the edge of our property, where I directed her to stop. Chances were that Mama had already called the Welfords, and that Emily had told her I’d left better than an hour before. I was in big trouble.

  “Whatever punishment they give you, remember Cammie,” Nadine said, brushing my bangs from my forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rebekah. You wanted something bad enough to take a risk. That isn’t bad. What’s wrong is that no one understands or appreciates your dream. I do, because it’s the same one I have.”

  Clutching the bag of potatoes and okra, I got out and closed the truck door. Tears threatened and I called a thanks and hurried away before she saw them. Nadine Andrews wouldn’t cry in public. Cutting through part of the yard, I hurried to the screen door. The porch was ominously quiet. I almost tripped over the pile of metal that had been assembled near the door.

  It took a full ten seconds for me to recognize the two wheels, the curves of fenders and the once white seat that had been my bicycle.

  The entire thing had been taken apart piece by piece. Even the basket was mixed in the wreckage. That Redeemer boy had destroyed my bicycle and then brought the parts of it to my very yard.

  The sack of potatoes slipped from my hand and bounced lightly on the ground. I knelt beside the pile of metal, fighting back the tears. In a second I was glad to feel the surge of anger that saved me from crying like a baby. I’d kill that bastard. He’d torn up my beautiful bicycle and left it destroyed at my own front porch.

  Eight

  I DIDN’T know how much time passed, at least fifteen minutes.

  I was so caught up in the rage and loss that I lost track. Voices coming through the kitchen window brought me around. A shaft of inviting yellow light beckoned me inside, but I hovered outside, listening. My fingertips traced the back fender of my bike.

  “Effie, you want me to run over to Alice’s house and ask her?”

  Arly’s voice floated out the open window, eager. He could sense the depth of the pit I’d fallen into, and he smelled blood. If anyone outside the family tried to hurt me, Arly would tear them apart. But inside the family we were competitors. Mama Betts said until I was born, Arly had been the sun. Every time he burped or fizzled they thought it was a sign of genius. Then two years later I came along. Mama Betts said I’d never understand because I’d always lived with Arly, but he had that distant memory of being the only child, the best-loved baby.

  Now Arly had entered the ranks of male teenager, and he was girl crazy, though he hid it pretty well from Effie and Mama Betts. Daddy suspected, but since he was away this summer I couldn’t be sure how much he knew. Anyway, if Arly could keep the spotlight of Effie’s fear focused on me, then he’d have more freedom to do as he pleased. I understood his strategy, and I wanted to choke him. I held myself still while Mama talked.

  “If she isn’t home in ten minutes, I’m going to call Joe.”

  “Now, Effie. You’re getting hysterical.”

  “Her bicycle is in pieces! What sane person would do that? I should have called Joe when Arly found the bike! What if someone’s taken my baby?”

  Mama’s voice had gone past anger, climbing higher and higher into the zone of panic. Joe Wickham was the county sheriff. I’d really stepped in it now.

  I stood up. There was no point delaying, but my legs didn’t want to work. Man oh man. I forced myself over the bicycle and onto the porch. Since I was a coward, I let the screen door slam. That gave them a little warning that I was home. The scraping of chairs in the kitchen was distinct, a harsh noise that foretold of things to come.

  Dusk had begun to settle over Kali Oka Road, and when the door opened, the light spilled out and over me. I stood transfixed, like a ‘possum staring directly into headlights. I had to fight to keep my hands from going up as if I expected to be struck.

  “Rebekah!” Effie and Mama Betts spoke together.

  “Man, you’re in some shit now,” Arly offered and failed to even earn a reprimand for his language. He stood behind them, peering over their shoulders.

  “Where have you been?” Mama and Mama Betts both lifted their arms to their hips. “Well, answer me.”

  It was as if they’d rehearsed together.

  “You’d better hope you were kidnapped by communists, because if not, you haven’t got an alibi and you’re going to suffer big time.”

  “Shut up, Arly.” I was trying to think what to tell them. They knew about the bicycle, but they didn’t know who had done it. “Someone stole my bicycle.”

  “Rebekah Brighton Rich.”

  Effie’s voice simmered. She was over the fear and had notched up to a pure fury that was the by-product of intense relief. She’d be over the worst of it in a matter of minutes, if I lived that long.

  “Your father is sitting in an office halfway across the country, worried sick about you. I’ve been about to tear my hair out, and Mama Betts has been terrified thinking of all the things that could have happened to you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Indeed I was, but I knew apologies would go unheard at this point.

  “She didn’t ask for a character reference.” Arly had stepped back from the door. Mama Betts’ hand clamped down on his shoulder with a suddenness that made him jump.

  “Someone stole my bike, and I was trying to get it back.”

  “Who took it?” Effie held the screen door open f
or me to enter.

  The crisis was over. At least the worst of it. She was asking questions and maybe willing to listen to my side. “I don’t know.” I was still carrying the potatoes and okra, and Mama Betts took the bag from my arms.

  “Arly, go wash some of these potatoes.” She handed the bag to him, and I felt a surge of satisfaction.

  “You’d better explain yourself right now.” Effie pointed at a chair at the kitchen table.

  I told them about going to the creek swimming and how we’d left the bikes along the bank and how they were gone when we went back for them. It was not a lie, only the timing was a little off. “That’s what took us so long to get home. We had to walk. Alice begged me not to tell because hers is the family bicycle and now it’s ruined.” I was about to cry, thinking about the trouble Alice would be in if her bike was sitting in a heap in her front yard. Mrs. Waltman was known to slap first and never listen. With ten kids she wanted results, not excuses, as she said.

  “Arly said he thought he could put it back together.”

  “Really?” My beautiful bike, whole and wonderful again. “Alice’s too?”

  “If all the parts are there.” Arly spoke over his shoulder, his hands in the sink. “It’s going to cost you,” he mouthed at me so that no one else could hear.

  “I’ll bet the child is starved,” Mama Betts said. She reached into the oven and brought out a plate of food.

  I was famished. My ribs ached I was so hungry. Fried chicken, rice and gravy and crowder peas. Without okra. I was the fault of that, but I picked up the fork Mama Betts gave me and dug in.

  “Look at her scarf her food,” Arly said. “Maybe there’s a contest we can enter her in.”

  “Chew your food, Bekkah,” Effie said automatically. “And swallow that mouthful and tell us where you’ve been.”