Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

brain to be had amongst them bank officers.” He flicked a glance at his wife. “Which I wouldn’t bet money on,” he added. “But the truth is, it’s John Lee that does all the work on that farm, along with help from all his little brothers and sisters, at least from what I’ve been able to see.”
    “Scott said the same thing.”
    “Problem is the boy is underage, and it wouldn’t be him that holds the note on the farm. So my guess is that they’ll be having to pack up and leave.”
    “That’s a shame,” Alafair decided. “I’m guessing that Phoebe will be broke up about it.”
    “So you think Phoebe is really sweet on that boy?” Shaw asked, sounding surprised.
    Alafair laughed. “I hate to admit that I didn’t know anything about it ’til this week, but from the way she turns all red and can’t look me in the eye when his name is mentioned, I’d say yes.”
    Shaw sat up a little straighter in the seat. “What do we know about this boy?” he demanded.
    “You know him better than I do,” Alafair pointed out.
    There was a short silence while Shaw pondered. “He talks a nice story,” he said, “but I’m thinking he’s going to have enough on his mind to keep him from going and courting for a long while. Perhaps it’s just as well that they’ll likely be moving on.”
    “Let’s not be making any decisions that aren’t ours to make,” Alafair warned, “nor making assumptions before we know what’s what.”
    Shaw made a harrumphing sound and fell silent, and Alafair busied herself with packing up the lunch leftovers. She knew Shaw well enough to know what was on his mind at that moment. He went through this every time one of the girls cast a sidelong glance at some boy.
    ***
    The gate at the Day place was standing open and they pulled through and started up the drive toward the house. Much of the snow had melted away, and the road was muddy and hard to navigate. It took them almost as long to drive from the road to the house as it had taken them to come from their front door to the Day front gate. They could see the house from the road, and a depressing house it was, weather-beaten and unpainted, standing in the mud.
    “There’s Scott,” Shaw observed. Alafair could see Scott standing by the side of the house, looking down at something she couldn’t see but had an uncomfortable feeling about. Mrs. Day stood a bit to the side, absently patting two urchins who clung to her skirts. Alafair studied the woman as they drove up to the house and Shaw jumped down to drape the reins over the porch rail. He whistled at the hounds, who had trailed them from home, and they obediently leaped into the bed of the wagon, out of the way. After her few unsuccessful attempts to befriend Mrs. Day here on the farm, Alafair only saw the woman rarely in town. Mrs. Day was a fairly young woman still, but looked older than her years, skinny and faded, with the demeanor of a whipped pup. When Alafair tried to speak to her, she had always murmured something and scuttled away with a look of mingled fear and longing. She always had at least two or three children with her, silent, big-eyed waifs who were ragged but clean.
    Alafair got down and she and Shaw walked around the house. Shaw removed his hat as they neared, and Scott moved up to take charge of introductions.
    “Miz Day, you know my cousin Shaw Tucker and his wife, don’t you? I asked them to come on over and help us out.”
    The woman gazed at them for a second out of eyes that registered only blank surprise.
    “Why, we know Miz Day, sure enough,” Shaw replied, as though they were the best of friends. “We’re real sorry to hear of your loss.”
    Mrs. Day’s bewildered gaze moved from Shaw to Alafair, and they looked at one another in silence for the space of a breath. “Miz Tucker,” the woman said, for a greeting.
    “Miz Day,” Alafair responded. “I come to help you lay out your dead.” To be less forthright would have been disrespectful, to minimize what had happened.
    Mrs. Day nodded. “I appreciate it,” she said. She spoke matter-of-factly, polite, deferential as befitted the difference in their social status. But Alafair recognized the dreamlike look of shock in her eyes. Alafair looked down at the two little girls, one on either side of their mother. They both returned her gaze, wide-eyed and rosy-cheeked, infinitely more curious than upset by the untimely demise of their father. Alafair tried not to smile.
    “Miz Day,”