A Cry In The Night

27

Erich was due home on June third. He called the night of the second. “Jen, I’ve been miserable. Darling, I’d give anything not to have you so upset.”

She felt the hard knot of tension ease. It was as Mark said, eventually the gossip would blow over. If only she could hang on to that thought. “It’s all right. We’re going to get through all this.”

“How do you feel, Jen?”

“Pretty good.”

“Eating better?”

“Trying to. How did the exhibit go?”

“Very, very well. The Gramercy Trust bought three oils. Stiff prices too. The reviews were fine.”

“I’m so glad. What time does your plane get in?”

“Around eleven. I should be home between two and three. I love you so much, Jen.”

That night the room seemed less threatening. Maybe it will be all right, she promised herself. For the first time in weeks she slept without dreaming.

She was sitting at the breakfast table with Tina and Beth when the screaming started, a hideous cacophony of wild neighing and frantic sounds of human pain.

“Mommy!” Beth jumped off her chair and ran for the door.

“Stay there,” Jenny ordered. She ran toward the sounds. They were coming from the stable. Clyde was rushing from the office, a rifle in his hand. “Stay back, Miz Krueger, stay back.”

She could not. Joe. It was Joe who was screaming.

He was in the stall, crouched against the back wall, trying frantically to dodge the flying hooves. Baron was rearing on his hind legs, his eyes rolling in his head, the sharp metal-shod hoofs flailing the air. Joe was bleeding from the head; one arm hung limply at his side. As she watched he slumped onto the floor and Baron’s front legs trampled his chest.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God!” She heard her own voice weeping, praying, entreating. She was shoved aside. “Get out of his way, Joe. I’m gonna shoot.” Clyde took aim as the hooves reared up again. There was a sharp crack of the rifle, followed by a screeching, protesting neighing; Baron stood poised statuelike in midair, then crumbled into the straw in the stall.

Somehow Joe managed to press against the wall, to avoid the crushing weight of the falling animal. Joe lay still, his breath coming in sharp gasps, his eyes glazed with shock, his arm twisted grotesquely. Clyde threw down the rifle and ran over to him.

“Don’t move him!” Jenny shouted. “Call for an ambulance. Hurry.”

Trying to avoid Baron’s body, she kneeled beside Joe, her hand smoothing his forehead, wiping the blood from his eyes, pressing against the gaping tear near his hairline. Men came running from the fields. She could hear the sounds of a woman sobbing. Maude Ekers. “Joey, Joey.”

“Maw…”

“Joey.”

The ambulance arrived. Efficient white-clad attendants ordered everyone back. Then Joe was on the stretcher, his eyes closed, his face ashen. An attendant’s low voice whispered, “I think he’s going.”

There was a shriek from Maude Ekers.

Joe’s eyes opened, fastening on Jenny. His voice was bewildered, amazingly clear. “I’d never a told anyone I saw you get in the car that night, honest I wouldn’t,” he said.

Maude turned on Jenny, as she climbed in the ambulance after her son. “If my boy dies, it’s your fault, Jenny Krueger,” she screamed. “I curse the day you came here! God damn you Krueger women for what you’ve done to my family! God damn the baby you’re carrying, whoever it belongs to!”

The ambulance sped away, the wail of its siren shattering the peace of the summer morning.

Erich arrived home a few hours later. He chartered a plane to fly a chest surgeon down from the Mayo Clinic, and phoned for private nurses. Then he walked into the stable and crouched beside Baron, his hand patting the sleek, beautiful head of the dead animal.

Mark had already analyzed the bucket of oats. The report: strychnine mixed with oats.

Later Sheriff Gunderson showed up at the front door with his now familiar car. “Mrs. Krueger, a half-dozen people heard Joe say he wouldn’t have told that he saw you get in the car that night. What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t understand what he meant.”

“Mrs. Krueger, you were present a short time ago when Dr. Garrett admonished Joe for leaving the rat poison near the oats. You knew what effect it would have on Baron. You heard Dr. Garrett warn Joe that strychnine would drive Baron wild.”

“Did Dr. Garrett tell you that?”

“He told me that Joe had been careless with the rat poison and that you and Erich were present when he dressed Joe down.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing I can say, Mrs. Krueger. Joe claims he got the boxes mixed up. I don’t believe him. No one does.”

“Will Joe live?”

“Too soon to tell. Even if he does, he’ll be a mighty sick boy for a long time. If he makes it through the next three days, they’re moving him up to Mayo.” The sheriff turned to go. “Like his maw said, at least he’ll be safe up there.”