Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

“Move over here by the fire and take your shirt off,” she told him. “I’ve got some liniment in the cabinet. You’ll put on your flannel nightshirt after I rub you down, and I’ll warm a brick for the bed before you get in it. You’ll be frisky as a pup when you get up later.”
    “Aw, honey, that stuff smells like a veterinarian’s leather pouch,” Shaw protested weakly, unbuttoning his shirt all the while.
    “I can stand it if you can,” Alafair said, as she rummaged around on one of the high shelves. “Or you can go around all stove up for the next few days.”
    Shaw pulled his chair over next to the stove and Alafair took up a position behind him. She poured some liniment into her hands and began to knead the strong-smelling stuff into Shaw’s shoulders. He felt hard and knotted as old rope, but she could feel him melt under her hands, and his head dropped forward to afford her better access to the back of his neck. He sighed. “On top of everything,” he droned, as though he was talking to himself, “I’ll be having to break the clods in the cotton field in just a few weeks. I’ve been looking at the sod-busting machines, and I think I’m going to have to replace several of the discs on that old harrow of mine.”
    “Now, listen to yourself, Shaw,” Alafair admonished. “There you go talking like we’re still as poor as we were when we first moved out here. You could afford to buy a new harrow.”
    Shaw laughed wearily. “You’re mighty free with our money,” he chided. “There’s nothing wrong with that harrow that some new cogs and a bucket of grease won’t fix.”
    “Well, then, it wouldn’t cost very much to pay somebody to fix it for you,” she said. As the words left her mouth, a thought occurred that caused her hand to pause on Shaw’s shoulder. “In fact,” she said, suddenly animated, “I understand that Dan Lang is a very good mechanic. He works over at John Dasher’s blacksmith shop, I think. You could probably get Dan to come out here and have a look at that harrow right quick. I’m guessing he could fix it right there in the barn, once he knows what he needs.”
    Alafair couldn’t see Shaw’s face, but he was quiet for a moment while he considered this. “I expect it would be easier on me to hire somebody to fix the harrow,” he acknowledged. “I’ll talk to Dasher about it. Maybe he’ll do it himself, though. Don’t know why I should settle for the student when I could have the master.”
    “But I hear that Lang boy is right handy,” Alafair protested, dismayed. “He might be cheaper, too….” She paused when Shaw’s shoulders began to shake with mirth under her hands.
    “Alafair, I can see right through you, you schemer,” he said.
    She slapped his back, annoyed. “Oh, you plague me,” she huffed. “Tell me, then, what’s wrong with killing two birds with one stone? I can’t just go in to town and start questioning the boy, you know that. If Dan Lang was to come out here for some honest work, I could have a little talk with him about that Day girl.”
    “And maybe that fight he got into with her murdered daddy?”
    “If it comes up,” she confessed.
    “You just ain’t going to let this go, are you?” he observed.
    “How can I, Shaw, when Phoebe’s happiness is involved?”
    “Young people’s affections blow with the wind, sugar. Besides, it ain’t your job to be catching murderers. That’s Scott’s job, and he’s pretty good at it.”
    “I know that Scott will find out who killed that awful man eventually,” Alafair admitted. “But by that time it may be too late for Phoebe. And don’t dismiss those young folks’ feelings so lightly. A broken heart hurts like sin, no matter how old you are. Besides, I think this murder is hanging over everybody like a storm cloud. Nobody knows who to trust, who might be a killer. I’d sure like to have it done with.”
    “And what if the Lang boy is the killer, and you go to prodding him? Poking around in things like this can be dangerous, Alafair.”
    “Well, I hope I’m more careful than you seem to think,” she said, slightly offended. “I don’t intend to go accusing anybody to their face.”
    Instead of replying, Shaw nodded toward the kitchen door. “Look who’s up.”
    Alafair turned to see a frowzy, nightgown-clad Sophronia padding toward her through the pre-dawn gloom. Alafair wiped her hands on a towel before she picked the child up and sat down at the table.