Divine Justice

CHAPTER 18

THE ASPHALT ROAD gave way about a half mile out to macadam. Stone passed by a stone church that had a small steeple with a dry-stack stone wall encircling the property. Next to this house of worship was a graveyard. The former graveyard caretaker Stone took a moment to walk through the burial plots. The same family names kept popping up on the headstones. Stone saw the grave of Samuel Riker. He'd died five years ago at the age of forty-one.

There were many Tyrees also sprinkled around. One tombstone, darkened by age, was the resting place of Lincoln Q. Tyree. He'd died in 1901. Stone thought it must be a bit disconcerting to pass by a graveyard with a marker already bearing your name, but perhaps the good sheriff didn't come this way often.

Two graves still had fresh flowers on them and the mounds of dirt looked new. Rory Peterson had died a week ago. The name on the other grave made Stone do a double take. Debby Randolph had gone to her Lord a day after Peterson had died. That's apparently why the woman at the shop had acted a little strangely. Peterson was forty-eight while Debby had only been twenty-three.

Stone walked on, turning left at a fat oak with thick sprawling branches that resembled more Atlas holding up the world than a mere tree. Hanging from one of the branches was a sign that read "A Midsummer's Farm" with an arrow pointing to the left. He went on for another hundred yards down a crushed gravel path until he came to the house, although that term clearly didn't do it justice. He wasn't sure exactly what he had been expecting, but it wasn't this.

"Antebellum" was the first word that jumped to mind. It was large, constructed of white clapboard and sections of stone with black doors and shutters and no fewer than four stone chimneystacks. A broad front overhang supported by rows of elaborately milled columns offered up a fine porch with rocking chairs, sturdy tables, hanging plants and an upholstered swing anchoring one end. The landscaped yard stretched on and on with the perimeter bordered by stacked stone walls. In a cobblestone-paved motor court was parked a muddy pickup truck along with a Mini Cooper in racing green with a white top.

All this from the revenue produced by a restaurant with ten tables, eight barstools, two pool tables and a jukebox?

The work to be done was in the stables that were almost out of sight from the house. He spent the next several hours mucking out stalls and sorting bridles and reins and other equipment as several horses whi

Stone was rubbing his aching back when he heard the horse's hooves pounding his way. The fifteen-hand-high chestnut drew up next to him and Da

He popped the can lid and a bit of the liquid spewed out. "Horse riding and beer delivery ain't a good fit," he said.

"Knee looks to be okay," Stone noted.

"I'm a fast healer. What are you doing?"

"Mucking stalls among other things."

"I'll help you."

"You sure?"

"Got nothing else to do right now."

They went into the stables and Da

Stone eyed a bruise on the side of the man's face. "It was the other side that fellow nailed on the train, wasn't it?"

"Duke was too fast for me in the stall this morning. Clocked me in the face when I was trying to bridle him. Damn horse."

"But a beautiful one."

"You ride?"

"Not if I can help it. You call this place a hellhole? Which part-the pool, the mansion or the cool car parked in front?"

"I'm the exaggerating type."

"Seriously, why would you want to leave something like this?"

"It's hers, not mine." Da

"You're her son. You'll inherit someday."

Da

"Okay, fair enough. You an only child?"

"That's right."

"I saw your father's grave coming up here."

"That's why we got all this stuff."

"How so?"

"Lawsuit against the damn coal company that killed my old man. See, coal companies almost always win those things, or else settle for pe

"And your mom still runs the restaurant?"

"She likes to keep busy, and people need to eat."

"The whole town looks pretty prosperous."

"Coal prices highest in decades and there ain't enough miners to do the job. When demand's higher than supply, wages go up. About doubled in fact over the last five years. High wages, low cost of living equals prosperity for the common man. Simple."

"You sound like an economics major."

"Nah, just a dumb ex-jock, but I got eyes, ears and a little bit of common sense. Where you bunking tonight?"

"Must be a motel or something around here?"

"Back in town, couple blocks from my ma's place and around the corner from the courthouse, there's a place that has rooms to let. Cheap but clean. Bernie Sandusky runs it." He laughed. "Tell old Bernie that Da

"Why, that'll get me a reduced rate?"

"Nope, more likely get your butt kicked out the door."

"Why's that?"

"Bernie has a real cute granddaughter named Dottie. Few years ago he caught me and Dottie in one of his rooms working on our biology homework." He laughed and pitched a big load of manure into the wheelbarrow. "Okay, I'm done shoveling shit. You're on your own, dude."

Stone watched until Da

A few minutes later Stone followed a dirt path that was worn black and finally led to an old barn that looked close to falling down. Inside was an old gray pickup truck, bales of rotted hay, and rusted tractors and other farm equipment.

He perched on the bumper of the pickup and counted his meager cash. An act of kindness on his part to help Da

Yet should he even still be thinking of escape? Maybe when he'd jumped off the damn cliff, he should have just sucked in a chest of water and ended it. What did he have to live for anyway?

What do I have to live for?

He heard a vehicle skid to a stop outside. He hopped off the bumper and walked outside in time to see Abby step from the truck cab.

"Taking a stroll around the place?" she said, not smiling.

"I finished up at the stables. Beautiful property you have here."

"Okay," she said, her features unreadable.

"Doesn't look like this place gets much use anymore," he said, looking toward the barn.

"This was my momma and daddy's place for fifty years. They ran it as a farm, but we haven't done any farming here for thirty years. Their house was just down there," she said, pointing to the left. "Burned down a long time ago. Only thing left is the chimneystack. I oughta just knock it down, but I can't do it. I mean, it's really the only thing I have left of them."