Good Fences

by Chula Stone

Chapter One

Gordon Hill, Tennessee 2007

The noonday sun filtered through the trees, bringing the temperatures near one hundred even in the shade. The workmen gratefully dropped their shovels when the foreman called, “Break!” Taking a cup from the stack and filling it with water to pour over his head before filling it again and taking a long drink, one of the workmen sank down to perch on the rock fence they were trying to dismantle.

“I never thought getting this fence out of the ground would take so long.”

“Whoever built it meant it to last.”

“Is this a fence or is it a wall? You figure they went to all this trouble just to keep goats in?”

“Goats or gold, whatever you got, you want to keep it, don't you? Don't matter what it is, if it's yours. A good fence is a good thing. I can't believe this dumb developer wants it gone.”

“We see the foundation goes much deeper, we gonna need blasting permission to get it out. You can forget this shovel business.”

“Y'all take your lunch while I call the boss,” the foreman ordered. “I don't think they have any idea what they have here. There's no need to keep going with just hand shovels. They must not have realized how deep into the ground it goes. This is one solid fence. I'll see what I can do.”

* * * * * *

Gordon Hill, 1903

“Next thing I knew, I woke up here,” Rachel croaked. “Where am I and why do I smell like a barbecue pit?”

Jane Robinson reached down and stroked Rachel's auburn hair. “Don't try to talk now, Rachel, dear.”

“But why were you in the barn in the first place?” demanded the scowling man beside the bed.

“I just told her not to talk and here you are...”

“I've got to find out...”

“I think I can...” Rachel tried to rasp.

From the doorway, Chuck Robinson's deep baritone voice cut across the chaos. “Enough! Jane, you may be his mother, but he's a man grown now and you can't fuss at him like a kid. Scrapper, just because you saved Rachel’s life doesn't give you the right to bully the poor girl now. Your questions will have to wait. And you, Miss Drum, mind my wife and quit trying to talk. You sound like a frog that swallowed gravel. If your daddy were here, I 'd leave you to him, but he isn't, so I can't. The best I can do is tell you to settle down and hush. You can tell your story tomorrow.”

Rachel sank back on the pillows, looking half relieved and half stubborn. Jane murmured a short apology, but Scrapper was too busy protesting to notice. “I've got to know some things, Chuck. She's the only one who can tell me...”

“She can tell you tomorrow.”

Jane winced at the raised voices. Chuck noticed her reaction and took a step back, hoping to make Scrapper feel less threatened.

“She's protecting somebody. She knows who did this,” he accused, pointing a finger at the bed.

Rachel sat back up, causing Jane to reach down and restrain her again. “I do not!” she tried to shout but the words came out as a bare squeak. Coughing and gasping in pain, still Rachel fought against Jane's grip.

“Charles, please, get him out of here,” Jane begged.

Chuck tried to put a hand on Scrapper's shoulder, but Scrapper shrugged him off. “Lay off!” he shouted.

“Then clear out without my help!” Chuck shouted back.

Rachel's struggles to get out of the bed caused it to creak and groan which drew the men's attention.

“And you stay put!” both of them shouted together. Rachel flopped back, still looking mutinous.

“She's trying to get out of answering my questions, Chuck,” Scrapper explained in a lower tone. “I can't let her get away with that. She knows something about this fire.”

“I promise I'll keep her here until you've got your information,” Chuck replied. “I don't think she knows anything at all, but if it will satisfy you, I'll make sure you get a chance to ask her all the questions you want, once the doctor has seen her and her voice comes back. All right?”

“All right,” Scrapper gave in with ill grace. Turning to Rachel, he pointed his finger at her again and pronounced, “Don't think you've gotten away with anything. I'll come back tomorrow and every day if I have to till you tell me the truth.”

Rachel tried to take a deep breath to answer, but only coughed instead. “And quit trying to talk and get up. You're just making it worse,” Scrapper chided.

“She'll be calm if you'll just leave,” his mother fussed.

“You're right, so I'm leaving,” he fussed right back. He turned away from them and gave a quick backward shrug of his broad shoulders then shook his head. His mother and step-father could hear his footsteps through the house until the door slammed shut like a signal to the silence to begin.

“That boy sounds like he's arguing even when he's agreeing with you,” Chuck noted with a quick grunt of relief as he sat in the chair by the bed.

“It's always been so,” Jane agreed. Turning to Rachel, she apologized again. “I'm sorry you had to see that. He means well, I think. He just has a terrible temper sometimes.”

Rachel tried to speak again, but both Jane and Chuck shushed her. “It will have to wait,” Jane instructed her.

Rachel looked frustrated then thoughtful as an idea struck her. She made a writing motion with her hand and looked expectantly at Jane and Chuck in turn.

“She wants a pencil and paper,” Chuck realized.

“Or slate and chalk,” Jane agreed. “Patrick should have something like that in his school trunk. I'll go get it.”

Chuck reached out to hold her back. “Tomorrow will be soon enough. The girl needs rest. She's been through too much today already.”

“You're right, dear,” Jane agreed reluctantly. “Rachel, you get some rest. I'll bring you a pencil and paper first thing in the morning.”

Rachel pounded the bed with her fists one final time in defeat and turned her face away.

“I'm sorry dear, but...” Jane began.

“Leave her be,” Chuck commanded.

“Just let me explain to her...” Jane protested.

“She understands perfectly well,” Chuck corrected. “Come on now!”

“She's our guest.”

“You're my wife.” His tone was calm but his look held stern meaning.

Rachel felt suddenly guilty about causing hard feelings between two people who had been nothing but kind to her. She sat up again and tried to speak.

“Sh!” both Chuck and Jane said together.

Rachel leaned back down on one elbow, turning her other palm out in a conciliatory gesture. She then pointed to her own head as she laid it on the pillow with an exaggerated pat to indicate that she understood her need to rest.

“See there? She understands. Good girl, Rachel. Good night.” Chuck ushered his wife out of the room and closed the door firmly behind her. Proceeding down the hall Jane tried to pass the stairway but Chuck grasped her wrist and pulled her up the stairs after him.

“Where… I... Charles!” Jane exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

“I'm taking you upstairs for a little talk.”

“You can't! Patrick is home from school, remember? He'll hear you. Not to mention Rachel.”

“All right. You go out to the shed. I'll meet you there.”

“Charles, I don't see why...”

“You will when I get out there,” he interrupted. “One more word and I'll bring the strap along with your paddle.”

She hated when he called it ‘her’ paddle as if she owned it. If it were hers, she would have burned it years ago. Since she didn't have that option, she thought of it more like a skunk: she didn't see it often but when she did, it was always an occasion to remember.

All too soon, Chuck joined her in the shed. The crickets were giving one of their loudest summer evening concerts but Jane could hardly hear them for the pounding of her heart. She dreaded what she knew would come and simply wished it were over, so when Charles sat down on the chopping stump, she didn't hesitate to go over to him.

Though she had only been married to him for a few years, her desire to minimize the awkwardness of this inherently awkward process helped her follow his leading gestures as he guided her into position over his lap. She was grateful that he didn't immediately raise her skirts and wondered if perhaps her co-operation had won her that little consideration.

“You say you don't see why I'm going to spank you,” Chuck began. “So I'll explain, but first I think I need to get your attention.” She had hardly processed his words when they became action. He grabbed her attention as he grabbed the hem of her skirt and turned it up out of the way. The thin summer petticoat came next and within seconds he brought the paddle down sharply on her left buttock. Her squeal was cut short by a swat to her right buttock. She drew in her breath to squeal again but by the time she found her voice he had popped her backside twice more on each side.

“Ooowwww!” she finally managed, as he paused to let her breathe. “Ow, ow, ow! You have my attention!”

“Do I have your attention? Are you sure?” Pop, pop, pop went the paddle.

“Yes, ow, yes, you have my attention,” she gasped.

“Then you don't need much more explanation,” Chuck replied. Pop, pop, pop! “Because that's all I really want.” Pop, pop, pop! “I want your attention.” Pop, pop, pop! “And I intend to have it.” Pop, pop, pop! “Before your son.” Pop, pop, pop! “Before your guest.” Pop, pop, pop! “Me!” Pop, pop, pop! “You were listening to everyone but me.” Pop, pop, pop! “Worrying about everyone but me.” Pop, pop, pop! “Fussing at everyone, including me!” Pop, pop, pop! “And I won't allow it!” Pop, pop, pop! “Do you hear?” Pop, pop, pop!

By this time, she was writhing all over his lap. He didn't blame her, nor was he surprised. He could see the crimson glow spreading all over her pale skin and knew she had to be in a lot of pain. He only hoped it would teach her the lesson he intended her to learn. He didn't want to have to bring out her paddle again for a long while.

“Yes, I hear you,” she promised when her breathing had evened out. “I'm sorry I was rude.”

“You were rude not just to me, but to Scrapper as well. I know he's not the easiest man to be polite to, but you have to try a little harder. I'll be keeping your paddle handy and giving you a few little licks every morning as long as Scrapper is in town. That will help you remember to keep your temper even if he looses his.”

“Every morning!?!” she protested. “But what if I'm good? What if I manage to be polite and not fuss at him? Shouldn't I get credit for that?”

“You will get credit for that,” he agreed, rubbing the paddle's smooth surface all over her heated backside. “I'll add extras for rudeness,” he promised, giving her another sound pop with the paddle, “but I'll skip a day every now and then if you do really well.” He put down the paddle and patted her behind with his hand. She squirmed away from even that gentle touch and he let her escape, knowing she wouldn't go far. She was a mature woman, not given to making scenes and he was not disappointed. When he pulled her gently to him, he wasn't surprised to feel her melt into his embrace. She wanted the reconciliation as much as he did.

After a long close moment, he kissed her thoroughly, hoping that she might feel inclined to show him just how sincerely she intended to put him first in her attention. Again, he was not disappointed.

* * * * * *

Bright and early the next morning, Scrapper was back, pacing up and down on the front porch. When Chuck came to the door to let him in, Scrapper wasted no time in idle chatter. “I'm going to question that girl this morning. She is going to tell me what she knows.”

Chuck put out his palm in a calming gesture. “No one is trying to keep you from her, Scrapper. She's just not awake yet. Jane had to give her some laudanum around midnight to help with the pain in her throat and chest. All that smoke got to her pretty bad. Once she wakes up and the doctor has seen her, she's all yours.”

The two men had made their way through the house by that point. Chuck poured a cup of coffee and offered it to the younger man. “Now why don't you set yourself down and tell me whatever it is you're hiding from your mother.”

Scrapper took the proffered cup and sat down heavily at the kitchen table. “You remember when I first got here?”

“What, about a month ago?”

“Right. I had about one day to get ready before every tough guy in town heard Scrapper Sanderson was back. They practically lined up in the street trying to pick fights and prove themselves against a professional. I couldn't turn the other cheek but so many times before I clocked one of them. Sheriff Morgan pitched us both in the clink and spread the word that he had plenty more beds just waiting for would-be cock-of-the-walks who couldn't leave a man be. I haven't had much trouble since then, but while I was there, he got me to help him out in the office some.”

Scrapper paused, so Chuck encouraged him. “I can see where you'd be able to help with the guns and wanted posters and such.”

“No, no, he wanted me to fill him in on what's happening in Nashville and Memphis and the like. So we got to talking and he let me in on something funny that's been going on around here. Several of the men around town have been reporting finding camp fires on their property.”

“I've seen Sheriff Morgan about it myself. It's nothing to report if you see a camp fire along with signs of a camp. Men move through the area all the time. This was funny because there wasn't any camp. Just the fire. I figured it was kids, but this close to town, they'll usually ask permission, unless they're up to no good. That's why I reported it.”

“You and seven or eight others. Morgan doesn't like it and neither do I. Then when I saw that barn smoking, it was like a good right cross connecting with a guy's jaw. I knew one had something to do with the other. Now I've got to find out what.”

“So you think the fire was set? But who would do a thing like that?”

“Some kid, like a spoiled girl, bored and looking to stir up some action,” Scrapper asserted, sounding disgusted. “Or an owner, looking for the insurance money.”

Chuck shook his head. “That doesn't add up in this case. You found Rachel in the barn. She couldn't collect the insurance money if she were dead.”

“Rachel isn't the millowner, is she? I figured maybe her father or brother set the fire and didn't know she was up there. She seems like just the type of female to be where she didn't have any business.”

“She's got as much business up there as anybody. She owns the place. What I'd like to know is, what was she doing up there in an empty barn?

“Good thing for her it was empty. If it had been full, she wouldn't be here to tell the tale.”

“You're right about that,” Chuck responded. “There's nothing like a grain explosion. Saw one when I was a kid and I'll never forget it.”

“I was in the clean-up crew of that mill explosion two years ago in Memphis. I did some volunteer firefighting in between boxing bouts because my trainer lived next door to the firehouse. He figured I was better off hanging around there than in some bar.”

“Can't argue with that,” Chuck agreed.

“So I know what I'm talking about when it comes to explosions and fires. Sheriff Morgan told me about the camp fires, then took me out to see them once my three day sentence was up. Some of them looked like normal campfires, but some others didn't.”

“So what's Sheriff Morgan doing about it?'

“There was nothing he could do until this barn fire happened. We both think somebody was practicing for the real thing.”

“And Drum's Mill was it?''

“Looks like,” Scrapper assented. “And the more you tell me, the more I think I need to question her now. There are other things I mean to take up with her. Do you know what she did?”

“What could she have done? You've only known her about five minutes,” Chuck noted.

“Long enough for that brat. She wouldn't come down the ladder when I told her to. I had to catch hold of her and carry her down. She wanted to try to fight the fire from up there in the loft!”

“That's plain crazy!” Chuck exclaimed.

“If she knew the fire was just starting, or if she suddenly felt sorry for what she had done, it doesn't sound quite so crazy, does it?”

Chuck nodded in dawning understanding. “That's why you're so hot to question her.”

“First, I want to question her, but what I really want to do is paddle her rear end for fighting me when all I was trying to do was save her life. That's assuming she didn't set the fire. If she did that, she'll go to jail.”

“Look, here comes the doctor now. Won't be long before you can see her.”