TICKLED SOMBER BLUE

 

 

            "Come 'ere," Lem called to Arch's wife Emma (formerly Hutto) from the doorway of the Forresters' smokehouse that evening.

            She hesitated, and then approached him gingerly. It was rare that the only clean-shaven Forrester-brother ever spoke to her at all, and she had never gotten past her automatic distrust of him. "What is it?" she asked timidly, still maintaining an awkward distance from him.

            "Come 'ere!" he repeated impatiently.

            His somber tone and cold expression set off a warning in her mind, and she stood rooted to the spot. Abruptly, he reached and grabbed her, and dragged her into the smokehouse, startling a shriek out of her.

            "Lemme go!"

            "Calm down! Keep quiet! I jest wanta ask you a question."

            "What is it?" she whispered, trying futilely to pull her arm free of his grasp.

            "I wanta know what's goin' on," he demanded, easily restraining her.

            Baffled, Emma shook her head.

            Lem clarified, "What's goin' on betwixt you and Arch and Buck and Mill-wheel and Pack?"

            She struggled to keep her expression composed, and her own tone utterly innocent and bewildered. "What...what you mean???"

            "All them winks them four was sendin' you acrost the supper table tonight!" he accused.

            Suddenly inspired, Emma bluffed, "Oh, that! Well, you know a'ready! Last night! The four of 'em tickled me right down to the floor! You was there; you seed! And they been teasin' me 'bout it and winkin' a heap, all day today!"

            Lem observed her calculatingly, clearly trying to decide whether or not to believe her. For her part, Emma forced her own expression to appear sure of herself, as well as indignant and puzzled at his apparent doubt.

            "That's all, huh?" he challenged.

            "Yes!" she insisted, still forcing unfelt confusion into her face.

            Then, Lem dropped his bombshell. "So, how come your dress is on wrong?"

            "What???" Emma felt herself grow very pale. She couldn't resist the automatic impulse to stare down at it, even as he added, "Inside-out!" Lem was right; it was. She whispered, "Oh lord! I musta put it on wrong this mornin'! I wonder who-all else noticed?!"

            "No!" Lem denied. "'Twa'n't on wrong this mornin' at breakfast!"

            Even as she felt herself begin to blush furiously, feeling entirely caught, Emma again lied primly, "Not that it's any o' your business, but Arch and me takened a walk today, and...um...got a mite affectionate along the way." She glared at him in feigned righteous indignation.

            "Really?!" his eyes narrowed.

            "Yes, really!" she retorted, pretending to suppress humiliation.

            He grinned unpleasantly, smugly. "Well, I seed you come back from your walk! Wa'n't jest Arch, was with you! Pack! Buck! Mill-wheel! All trailed 'long with you!" He looked triumphant, daring her to get out of that one.

            She stammered, "We...come upon 'em during our walk! After we got cuddly!"

            Lem obviously didn't believe her. But this time, he let her pull free of his grip. She rushed out of the smokehouse and away from him.

            Emma didn't stop running until she burst into the barn. Her husband was there. And so were their three co-conspirators. Tears streaming, she ran straight at them. "Lem knows!" she blurted. Sobbing, she fell into Arch's arms.

            "What?! How?!" he demanded.

            "He knows???" challenged Mill-wheel.

            "Well...he suspects!" she corrected herself.

            "What happened??" Buck demanded.

            "He dragged me into the smokehouse and questioned me! He seed the way you-all winked at me at supper! And he seed my dress was on inside-out! Oh lord, and it still is! I best fix it!" Emma tugged at the hem.

            "Stop!" ordered Pack. "Iffen he comes in here and sees us, and sees your dress on right, he'll know you fixed it right here in front of us!!"

            "Oh! O' course!! You're right!!!" Emma looked faint. She sagged in Arch's arms.

            Buck shifted uncomfortably, and suggested, "Well, gal? Would it really be so turrible iffen we include Lem??"

            She barely stifled a scream, and Arch answered for her, "Fellers, she serious don't wanta do that."

            Mill-wheel asked uneasily, "Is he really so awful??"

            She met each man's eyes as the tears ran. "He's hated me since the first time he laid eyes on me! Even afore he knowed I was a Hutto. 'Twas like he somehow guessed, or sensed it." She wiped ineffectually at her wet face.

            Arch agreed, "I recall that. He's the only one of us ain't never even said 'Howdy' to her. Jest stared at her right cold-like, that first day I fetched her here."

            Emma nodded, and added, "Plus, hit's even more to it than me bein' a Hutto, that he cain't forgive. I figger, every time he sees Arch and me happy, reminds him of...Twink...he cain't never have." Just using that name in front of them rendered her timid, even toward them. "And then he recollects, he's got me...my family...to blame for that, too." She sniffled. "He hates me! And I'm afraid of him!!" Emma looked from man to man for support.

            After a brief moment of silence, Pack offered, "Well, you got a right to say no to ary feller you want to; we know that. But, you know, we'd never leave Lem hurt you." Buck and Mill-wheel nodded agreement to that.

            Emma forced a feeble smile. "I b'lieve you, and I know you-all mean well. But it kin happen so fast. Lem could hurt me turrible, faster'n you-all could say, 'Lem, stop!'"

            They regarded her in puzzlement.

            Reluctantly, she told them, "Years ago, I had a friend, a gal. A feller had torn her so bad, so fast! She even showed me. I didn't wanta see, but she needed my he'p to git the bleedin' to stop. He near 'bout tore her in two!" Her crying recommenced. "I don't want a man ain't gentle!"

            Without warning, behind her, the barn door banged open, and Lem stood in the doorway. Emma's scream was piercing.

            "Of course," Lem said slowly. "You run straight to the same four."

            She tried desperately, "I run to my husband! They was here with him!"

            "Save it. I was listenin'."

            Emma blanched, and fell silent. Arch enveloped her protectively.

            The next entry into the barn was a far quieter one.

            "Lem," Mrs. Forrester said softly from behind him. Her volume was low, but her tone was steel.

            All whirled to stare at the new arrival. It was plainly apparent, from the sardonic half-grin with which she favored four bearded sons and their cowering, clinging blonde, to the coldly-calculating sternness with which she observed cold, stern Lem, that nothing about this situation had escaped her. She knew all.

            "Lem," she went on, "hit's lady's choice."

            The addressed son huffed at her and stomped out of the barn.

            Red-faced and guilt-stricken, Emma faltered, "Oh, Ma'am! Hit's all my fault!"

            "Now I doubt that, serious." Their mother's half-grin had returned. "I don't reckon none o' these randy fellers had their arms twisted." Her appraising, discerning gaze traveled up and down each of the men.

            Arch nodded slowly. "How long have you knowed, Ma?"

            "Since I heered the bunch o' you near 'bout ticklin' the life outen her last night. I knowed what was comin'."

            Emma gaped at her.

            The four men shouted ribald laughter.

            Mrs. Forrester chuckled and departed.