Carnal Innocence

Waverly. Cy Hatinger.”
    Her blood froze. “Hatinger?”
    Toby’s eyes flicked away from the appalled look in hers. “He ain’t nothing like his daddy, Miz Waverly.” In an old habit, Toby ran a fingertip down the scar on his cheek. “He’s a good boy. Hope you don’t think I’m overstepping, but I’m partial to him. He’s a good friend to Jim.”
    Caroline struggled with her conscience. He was a child, after all. She had no business having this urge to shout him off her land only because he carried the Hatinger name. And Hatinger blood.
    The bike’s bell jingled as Cy and Jim took turns ringing it.
    The sins of the fathers. That had been Austin’s quote. And his threat. She didn’t believe it, not when she looked out at the thin-faced boy who smiled like a dreamy angel.
    “Cy.”
    His head came up, not like an angel’s but like a wolf’s—fast and wary. “ma’am?”
    “I was about to fix myself some lunch. Would you like some?”
    “No, ma’am, thank you, ma’am. I had me some breakfast down to Sweetwater. Mr. Tucker, he fixed me up ham and eggs himself.”
    “He … I see.” But she didn’t see at all. Beside her, Toby let out a bellow of laughter.
    “Tuck cooked, you ate, and you’re still standing? Boy, you must have a cast-iron stomach.”
    “He cooked it good. He has this microwave. He putbiscuits in and quick as you blink they came out again steaming.” Revving up, Cy went on about how he was going to get lunch fixed for him every day by Miss Della, and about the loan of the bike, and how Mr. Tucker had given him two dollars in advance already.
    “And he said I should spend it as I pleased—as was a man’s privilege with his first pay—long as it wasn’t on whiskey and women.” He flushed a little and shot a look at Caroline. “He was only kidding.”
    Caroline smiled. “I’m sure you’re right.”
    Cy thought she was the prettiest female he’d ever seen. He was afraid if he kept looking at her, his old tool of Satan would start to twitch. So he looked at the ground. “I’m awful sorry about how my daddy shot out your windows.”
    Caroline hated to see his thin shoulders go tense that way. “They’re all fixed now, Cy.”
    “Yes’m.” He was going to say something, maybe offer her the two dollars for the damage, but he heard the car. Seconds before any of the others heard the sound of the engine slowing, the whisper of gravel under tires, he turned. “It’s that FBI man,” Cy said, his voice expressionless.
    They all watched in silence as Matthew Burns drove up and stopped at the end of the lane.
    He wasn’t terribly pleased to come across the crowd. He’d hoped to find her alone so that they could have a leisurely chat. But he fixed a pleasant enough smile on his face as he stepped from the car.
    “Good afternoon, Caroline.”
    “Hello, Matthew. What can I do for you?”
    “Nothing official. I had an hour free, and thought I’d drop by to see how you were.”
    “I’m fine.” But she knew that wouldn’t be enough. “Would you like some iced tea?”
    “That would be wonderful.” He stopped by the bike where Cy had his eyes planted firmly on the ground. “You’re the young Hatinger boy, correct?”
    “Yes sir.” Cy remembered Burns coming out to the house, trying to get some sense out of Ma while she wept into her apron. “I’d best be getting home.”
    “Come on, Jim. Let’s get back to work.” “I wish you’d take a longer break, Toby. It’s so hot.”
    “Toby?” Matthew’s gaze sharpened on the broad-shouldered black man. “Toby March?”
    Muscles tensed, Toby nodded. “That’s right.”
    “Coincidentally, your name’s on my list to be interviewed. That scar on your face. Hatinger gave that to you?”
    “Matthew,” Caroline said, appalled, her gaze locking on Cy’s face.
    “I gotta go,” Cy said again, quickly. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow, Jim.” He hopped on the bike and pedaled furiously.
    “Matthew, did you have to do that with the child here?”
    Burns spread his hands. “In a town like this, I’m sure the boy knows already. Now, Mr. March, if you have a moment.”
    “Jim, you go on around and scrape that window trim.”
    “But, Daddy—”
    “Do as I say.”
    Head down, shoulders slumped, Jim obeyed.
    “You wanted to ask me a question, Mr. Burns.”
    “Agent Burns. Yes. About your scar.”
    “I’ve had it going on twenty years, from when Austin Hatinger come down on me for being a thief.” Toby