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CHAPTER 9

Things That Move In The Night

      ALL TOLD, it had been a long day. Lucy had been up most of the night, they'd had company all afternoon, and Saturday nights were always busy. And willing as Swan was, a lot had been on Lucy's shoulders.

      Evidently, Bobby was tired too. He went upstairs without a word as soon as they got home.

      Uncle Bob had not waited up. When Lucy tiptoed into his bedroom, he was sound asleep, with the moonlight shining in on him. It was unusual for him to go to bed so early, but it was good that he'd been able to manage it without her.

      Out on the pitch-dark screened-in porch where she now slept, Lucy took off her jeans and sweatshirt and stuffed them in the laundry bag. Then, just as she was unhooking herself, a stray thought crossed her mind and she stopped, shivering with cold and uneasiness.

      Tonight, she'd paid Gene for his week's work and the two weeks he had coming for his honeymoon-vacation. And after she'd paid him, and Shark, and Swan, there was nothing left in the tin box. How was she going to pay the beer man when he came on Monday.

      Money! The worry was always there, like termites working away in an old house. And standing in the dark, with nothing on but her panties, she faced it again.

      "All right then, what can I do?" She sat down on the chest in the corner and leaned her head against the wall and pulled her knees up under her chin.

      "Maybe I could call and ask him not to come till Tuesday." That way, maybe by Monday night there'd be money to pay him with. But that would throw them behind on everything else, and she'd come up really short next week.

      Of course, since she had already paid Gene for the next two weeks, that might put her enough ahead. She rubbed her cold feet as she thought about that.

      But she'd be having to pay both Swan and Shark. And there was the meat bill coming up, and groceries to buy. And business certainly wasn't getting any better. If anything, it was getting worse.

      So now she was back at what-to-do. And think as she would, nothing occurred to her, so finally she decided she'd just wait and see. Maybe the beer man would not come in until Tuesday.

      "Why does it always have to be so hard," she wondered, getting up off the chest, "Every week we're robbing Peter to pay Paul; there's never enough to go around." And the termites kept chewing away. Because every week, the beer man (Charles White, the representative of NuMex Brewery Distributors) kept saying he needed to talk to Uncle Bob. And last week, he said he'd come out to the house, if Uncle Bob couldn't come to him.

      When she gave Uncle Bob the message, he just said that he'd see Charles White when he, Bob, got good and ready, and not before. And that he wasn't about to start conducting his business at home. And he rolled his chair away from her mumbling that old Charlie had better not try coming out here to the house, or he'd find himself in some real trouble.

      Lucy got up and began pacing back and forth in the dark. So what was she supposed to tell Charles White when he asked?

      She realized that she was shivering. "Well, it's cold our here," she scolded herself, "And you're standing around practically naked." She rummaged around in the chest of drawers and found a nightgown, but then, instead of putting it on, she just hugged it to her and walked over to the screen and stared out at the back yard.

      How still it was. Everything was asleep.

      Her thoughts moved to the baby upstairs. He must be sleeping too, curled up warm as a kitty. She remembered the feeling of his little head nuzzled against her neck. Warm little body . . .

      How nice to think of him growing up in the house here. She'd get out the old high chair that was stored in the rafters of the barn. Clean it up. Paint it yellow, maybe. Pretty soon he'd be running around playing with Rooster. She had a brief, rosy image of sunshine and flowers and cookies with frosting.

      "Oh, let him be happy as he grows up." Lucy thought almost fiercely. "At least let him be happy."

      She thought of Miss Peaches, being a grandmother. "Hero. What a name." But why not? Why shouldn't he be a hero if he could. Barefooted, cold, worried about money, Lucy sighed. What would become of him, poor little man.

      Moonlight was washing across the yard. Shadows made the cottonwood tree into black strokes on white silk, like a Chinese picture from the National Geographic. The barn was a dark mass of shadow on a silver ground.

      Then a shudder of excitement went through her. Something was moving in the dark, next to the house!

      She froze. Was it her imagination? Another movement. Yes. Something was out there.

      And then, with a suddenness that sent a ripple like an electric shock through Lucy's whole body, a beam of yellow broke open the shadow, as an upstairs light went on. And in the path of that light she saw a tall, lean man standing in the yard.

      He turned and looked up at the lighted window. Clear as a picture in the light, she saw that he was naked. And beautiful as an angel!

      Lucy stared at this vision, astonished, while he stood there, still as a painted god, transfixed in the light. His arms and shoulders were like carved ivory. The muscles in his legs and hips were sleek as — as a tiger in the jungle. Shivering in the dark, she could not look away from his startled face, from his beautiful lean, male tiger's body.

      Unthinking the words rose in her mind: 'Gallatin! Oh, Galahad. His strength is as the strength of ten . . .' The light had caught him like a jewel sunk in a block of amber, and the sight of him had caught her, too. Entrapped her, and she could not get free.

      Then he stepped out of the light and was gone.

      Lucy stood still, the sight of him hanging in her mind. Then she went and sat down on her bed, still clutching her bunched-up nightgown against her bare breasts, and tried to get her practical brain working again.

      They had both moved in. Of course. Gallatin and Shark had come to sleep in the barn just as he'd said.

      And he had probably come outdoors to pee.

      Lots of men slept with no clothes on.

      That was all there was to it. Just that and no more. No need to get all flustered.

      She put on her nightgown at last and lay down and pulled the covers over her, up to her chin. It was so cold out here on the porch tonight that it was almost like sleeping outdoors in the open. Unprotected.

      But all the time she was thinking those things, the sight of him remained in her mind, naked in the golden light.

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