“He’s buried out back of your house,” Daddy says, shuffling to the right and nearly tripping over Annie. “We did it. A handful of us. Best I remember, we tied together a few logs and that’s what’s buried there in town. Ain’t Joseph Carl. We waited a time and then buried him out back. Your mama, she fashioned a marker of sorts, I think. We tried to do right by the boy,” Daddy says. “Didn’t want to believe he done those things. Don’t really guess I ever did much believe it. Have always kept my own girls close, figuring there was someone still out there.”
Daddy’s always said if it looks like a Baine, choose a different path. Maybe he’s always thought another one of the Baines left Uncle Dale for dead.
Ellis Baine is still staring at Annie through that one eye, and the gun is still lifted in his hands, but the barrel has started to dip toward the ground. To the right, Abraham has slid a few steps closer to Ellis. As Daddy starts to talk again, Abraham slips his right hand behind him and up under his jacket.
“You let me know if you can’t find it,” Daddy says, inching ever so slowly to the right. “Guess I figured your mama would have told you about it, else I would have told you long before now.”
Abraham grabs hold of something and slips it from under his jacket. It’s silver and catches the sunlight. Still holding it in his hand, whatever it is, Abraham lets it hang down alongside his leg and Annie can no longer see it. But she knows enough. Even though Daddy has never been much for guns and rifles, Annie knows enough.
“I’ve a pretty good memory,” Daddy is saying. “Could help you track it down. It’s just out back of your house.”
“You still ain’t explained how you came to have those cards, Abe,” Ellis says, lifting the gun again and settling it on Annie. “Thinking there must be a reason you won’t tell.”
“Miss Watson,” Annie says. It’s almost a whisper, so maybe no one hears.
The tip of the shotgun doesn’t move, but Ellis stops squinting through that one eye and looks at Annie with both. It’s barely a movement, but it’s enough. Ellis Baine knows. Annie is remembering Abraham in the kitchen. He had tossed the cards into the air, making them spin end over end, and hollered up to Miss Watson that they’d found the cards they’d been looking for.
“They’re Miss Watson’s cards,” Annie says again.
It’s louder than most anything Annie has ever heard. Louder than the backfire from the old truck Daddy once drove. Louder than the shed door when the wind catches it and slams it shut. Before the echo of it has faded, Daddy is on top of her, his body forcing her flat on the ground. The rock fence is beside her, though she can no longer feel its sharp edges. One cheek is pressed into the dirt, the other buried beneath Daddy’s chest. His heart beats against her face. His chest lifts and lowers with each breath he takes, and she can’t inhale under the weight of him.
When Daddy finally moves, he scrambles to his knees, gathers Annie up, and drops her over the fence. He yells something at her. She knows because his mouth moves, but his voice is muffled, his words unclear. He presses one hand flat, which means to stay put, stay there on the ground. Abigail Watson is there next to Annie. She huddles on the ground, her hands over her head. Abraham Pace appears next, still holding the handgun. He does the same as Daddy, though his voice is a bit sharper.
“Stay put,” he says. “Everything’ll be fine. Stay put.”
? ? ?
ANNIE PUSHES UP to her knees, sits back on her heels, and rests there, her head lowered, her hands pressed to the ground. Her hind end hurts from her being dropped over the fence, and the palm of each hand burns. Miss Watson stands.
“Abigail?” Abraham says. His voice sounds as if coming from far away.
“I guess I’d forgotten,” Miss Watson says. She looks down on Annie when she says it.
Annie starts to stand, but Daddy appears above her and tells her to stay put again. Slowly, she shifts herself around so she’s sitting on her hind end, even though it aches. She pulls her skirt over her knees and wraps her arms around her legs.
Daddy and Abraham are moving about on the other side of the fence, and Miss Watson is watching them. She steps back, nearly tripping, when Daddy jumps over the fence. He leans into Annie.
“You stay here with Abraham,” he says. “Stay put.”
Then Daddy runs down the hill, through the lavender, not bothering to be careful of the slender stems.
“What is it you done, Abigail?” Abraham says. He’s standing across from Miss Watson.
Still hugging her knees, Annie looks up at them from her place on the ground. Daddy said to stay put. He doesn’t want her seeing what’s on the Baines’ side of the fence.
“He was peeking, Abey,” Miss Watson says. “From up there in a tree. I climbed alongside him, and Dale, he was peeking. I saw you, you and Juna. He said he done it all the time. All the time peeking on you.”
Abraham glances over his shoulder, closes his eyes, and his chest lifts up and out as he takes a deep breath.
“You was there?” Abraham says. “You was there near the river?”
Miss Watson turns to Annie again. “Sarah’s the one told me where to find Dale. Your mama, she’s the one. Said he was off with Juna. I’d been there to that spot with Dale before but never to peek. I never knew he peeked like that.”