Alafair Tucker 01 - The Old Buzzard Had It Coming

made a hollow whump as it hit the saddle blanket on Missy’s back. Alafair’s voice was momentarily muffled by the horse’s belly as she reached under for the cinch. “Don’t put that comforter back on the bed,” she warned. “Somebody’s bound to smell hay. Shake it out good and fold it up with some cedar chips in it, and put it in the chest at the end of my bed.” She took the reins and the saddle horn in her left hand and the crupper in her right and hoisted herself up into the saddle. She adjusted her full skirt with a flick of her hand. “If ever you had any stealthiness in you, Phoebe, you’d better use it now. Try to be invisible around Scott and your daddy, and if they ask you anything, try to answer with one word or less.”
    “I don’t like to lie, Mama,” Phoebe told her, anxious. “I’m not real good at it.”
    Alafair chuckled humorlessly. “You’ve been doing pretty well at it for the last few months, to my thinking. But don’t worry, I doubt if you’ll have to. Daddy thinks you have hurt feelings and he won’t be bringing up anything he thinks might cause you pain. Just try not to raise Scott’s suspicions, or he’ll be all over you like a duck on a junebug.” She kicked Missy and was out the barn door, leaving Phoebe watching after her.

Chapter Ten
    Mrs. Day came out on the porch to meet Alafair long before Alafair reached the house. Alafair reined at the porch and dismounted in silence, and she and Mrs. Day eyed one another as she tied her horse to the porch rail and walked up the steps. Alafair couldn’t see the woman’s face, since she was wrapped up in a quilt, top to toe, and only her black eyes were visible. Those black eyes gazed at Alafair with a combination of curiosity and dread, and at first Alafair wondered if Mrs. Day already knew about her son. By the time she reached the top of the steps, Alafair had realized that Mrs. Day was simply not a woman who expected anything good to happen to her. It made Alafair feel bad that she was not going to do anything that would change Mrs. Day’s mind about that.
    “What can I do for you, Miz Tucker?” Mrs. Day wondered.
    Alafair took a breath and came out with it. “Miz Day, I came to tell you that Sheriff Tucker has just arrested John Lee for the murder of your husband.”
    Mrs. Day’s eyes widened, and the quilt fell back from her head. “Oh, no, it can’t be,” she said. “I can’t believe he done it.” Her voice was curiously detached at first, then without warning, a wail escaped her that literally made Alafair jump. “Not John Lee,” she moaned. “Oh, mercy. Oh, Lord Jesus. Harley was a bad man. Harley deserved to die. But not John Lee. I can’t believe he done it.”
    “I don’t think he did it, either,” Alafair interjected firmly.
    Mrs. Day abruptly stopped wailing and stared at Alafair stupidly. “You don’t?” she asked, at length.
    Alafair glanced toward the screen door where several little Days were bunched around watching their mother’s hysterics without much alarm. Alafair grabbed the woman’s arm and drew her away, toward the end of the porch. “No,” she assured her. “I’ve thought on it this past week until my head is sore. It just don’t seem possible that John Lee could have so cold-bloodedly walked up to his dad and shot him in his sleep, but I didn’t have any other good explanation. The sheriff is going to come out here in just a few minutes to tell you that John Lee has turned himself in. I think John Lee has told the sheriff that he and his dad got into a fight in the woods on Wednesday evening and that John Lee shot at him, then dropped the gun and ran, while Harley staggered off the other direction. Phoebe and I went to the place in the woods where this thing is supposed to have happened, and we did find a fresh bullet scar in a blackjack. But we didn’t find no gun….”
    “Wait now,” Mrs. Day said, halting Alafair’s narrative, “John Lee and Harley did go at each other that morning, but it was here in the front yard. And there weren’t no gun involved. I saw it with my own eyes. Are you saying there was another fight later that day?”
    “So John Lee says.”
    Mrs. Day blinked. “Miz Tucker, how do you know this? Have you spoken to John Lee? Where has he been?”
    Reflexively, Alafair put her hand on Mrs. Day’s arm. “I’d rather not say, right now. Let’s just say that since my girl Phoebe likes John Lee, and I’ve found him to be a fine thoughtful