—
I met Ray Lamphere in August, after a hard, troublesome year. I had not been myself since Christmas and Jennie, and the old restlessness was back, tugging at my bones. No matter what I did, I could not seem to find any satisfaction. My jaw ached so badly, I had to treat it with a ripe-smelling poultice, which did nothing to better my mood.
I hired Lamphere to do some work on the farm that was long overdue. All my troubles kept distracting me from repairs and other necessary work. I should have renewed my stocks and plan for the harvest ahead, but my heart was just not in it. It was hard to find capable hands as well; they up and left or I rid myself of them, deciding they were more useful for cash than as farmhands. I never felt sorry for that. I butchered pigs for meat and men for money—I took what I needed to live and thrive, but it kept landing me in a rough spot when it came to capable workers. Which was why I took on Lamphere, despite my better judgment and his horrid reputation.
Had I known then what was to come, I certainly would have let it be. Every deck of cards has at least one grinning fool, useless and annoying, that turns up only to ruin the game. Lamphere was just like that: a fool with jingling bells.
It was sweet enough at first. I was weary and happy to have a man in the house to do the heavy lifting. Even if he was a drunk and a vagrant, always unkempt and unwashed, he was eager to please and strived to shine. After his first day at work, laying new floorboards in the parlor, I knew he could never defy me; he was as soft and moldable as clay. His gratitude for the job made him act like a dog. I found I liked that. I had seen enough of those loud brutes with strong opinions and a desire to rule. That wrecked and foolish man came as a bit of a relief to me then. I did not have to feed him sweets or compliment his rude behavior. I did not have to coax and charm—he was as simple as they come.
I heard him hammering above me that first night, while I was working in the basement, butchering two young men James had sent me. I was not worried that he would find me out; Ray would never go where he was not wanted—or that was what I thought at the time.
I washed up outside by the pump, and then I wrung the neck of a chicken to bring back inside, and cut it some too, to explain my stained apron. It was late at night, but I felt certain that Mr. Lamphere would not even know to ask why I was out catching chickens so late.
My appetites were great that night, as they often were after butchering, and Ray was there, on his knees, pounding those nails in place.
“You better quiet down.” I stood in the door to the parlor, still holding the poor chicken by its neck. “You may disturb the children.”
He stopped at once and looked up at me with those drooping eyes of his. “Of course, Mrs. Gunness. I’m sorry, Mrs. Gunness.”
I awarded him a smile. “Don’t be. I like a hardworking man. It’s so hard to find one these days who doesn’t shy away from labor.”
“Oh, I don’t mind some hard work,” he said, bristling. “I can work all night if that is what it takes.”
“Well, you better leave it for now or the children might get anxious.” But probably not, as I had given them drops. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen with me to have some nice food and a drink?”
The latter made him light up. “Much obliged, Mrs. Gunness.” He rose to his feet; sawdust drifted off his clothes.
“Call me Belle, please.” I led the way into the kitchen, where the embers still smoldered hot in the range. I had some leftover soup in the pantry and placed it on the range to heat. Ray stoked the fire and added fresh logs. I poured him some whiskey, placed it on the table, and saw him perk up as a dog with a scent. He truly was under the sway.
“You have worked many places around here, haven’t you, Ray?”
“Sure.” He sipped his liquor. “All have given good references,” he lied. He was wont to go missing for days and show up drunk in the mornings.
“At least you’re doing good work for me. My floors have never looked so good.”
“I’m good with the hammer,” he said.
“I’m sure.”
“The nails too.”
“Of course.”
I gave him a bowl of soup and some bread, and took some for myself as well. I wished I had something sweet but I had lost my taste for cooking. Not even sugar could mellow my recent discontent. Whiskey could, though, for a little while, and Ray Lamphere was the perfect man to share that vice with me. We kept sharing that bottle long after the soup was gone. Ray told me tall stories about his glorious youth, as all men do. They want you to know about the time when they were strong and reckless, filled with dreams and hopes, not used up and broken as they usually were when they washed up at the widow in La Porte.
Ray Lamphere had nothing to his name but a poor reputation and a taste for liquor, yet I did not hesitate when he said, “Just say if there is something else I can do for you, ma’am.”
I took him to bed then, that very first night, and for a drunkard he did rather well. He was well hung and eager to please, and I felt sure he would not cause me any trouble. Ray Lamphere was as easy as a child, I thought then. I could keep him around in any way that I wanted. He would never expect me to be sweet or even kind but would depend upon me for every scrap he got: food and shelter, liquor and tobacco.
It suited me well at the time.
* * *
—
As the year progressed, Lamphere was a lamb, eating out of the palm of my hand. There was not a thing he would not do for a generous serving of whiskey. He never went missing for more than a night after I cried when he did. He was always by my side, carrying, digging, and shuffling muck. He had a hand with the horses too but was clumsy when it came to butchering.
One night, as we lay in bed in the room he kept upstairs, I turned to him and said, “Mr. Lamphere, what if we got married?”
He looked at me in the darkness. “Why would you want to marry a man such as me?”
“I have more than you, that is true, but I’m a lonely woman fending for myself out here, and you have proven yourself many times as being a man of your word.” If I was to end my enterprise, I might just as well do it with a man I knew how to control. It would not do to be a widow forever—having a husband would tether me, I hoped. Loose connections would always pose a temptation, especially if the man in question came carrying cash. No, it was better if I took a fool and kept to him. One of whom I expected nothing and who expected nothing in return.
Ray gave an amused sound. “Not all would say that I’m a man of my word.”
“Well, I do. You never let me down, and you’re a hard worker, just as I am.”