“Found you!”
Earl broke his kiss and turned toward the messianic voice. Gyer was standing in the doorway, rain-plastered hair a gray skull cap, his face bright with fury. The light thrown up on him from the silk-draped lamp beside the bed made him look massive. The glint in his come-to-the-Lord eyes was verging on the manic. Earl had heard tell of the great man’s righteous wrath from Virginia; furniture had been trashed in the past, and bones broken.
“Is there no end to your iniquity?” he demanded to know, the words coming with unnerving calm from between his narrow lips. Earl hoisted his trousers up, fumbling for the zipper.
“This isn’t your business…” he began, but Gyer’s fury powdered the words on his tongue.
Laura May was not so easily cowed. “You get out,” she said, pulling a sheet up to cover her generous breasts. Earl glanced around at her; at the smooth shoulders he’d all too recently kissed. He wanted to kiss them again now, but the man in black crossed the room in four quick strides and took hold of him by hair and arm. The movement, in the confined space of Laura May’s room, had the effect of an earth tremor. Pieces of her precious collection toppled over on the shelves and dressing table, one exhibit falling against another, and that against its neighbor, until a minor avalanche of trivia hit the floor. Laura May was blind to any damage however. Her thoughts were with the man who had so sweetly shared her bed. She could see the trepidation in Earl’s eyes as the evangelist dragged him away, and she shared it.
“Let him be!” she shrieked, forsaking her modesty and getting up from the bed. “He hasn’t done anything wrong!”
The evangelist paused to respond, Earl wrestling uselessly to free himself. “What would you know about error, whore?” Gyer spat at her. “You’re too steeped in sin. You with your nakedness, and your stinking bed.”
The bed did stink, but only of good soap and recent love. She had nothing to apologize for, and she wasn’t going to let this two-bit Bible-thumper intimidate her.
“I’ll call the cops!” she warned. “If you don’t leave him alone, I’ll call them!”
Gyer didn’t grace the threat with a reply. He simply dragged Earl out through the door and into the kitchen. Laura May yelled: “Hold on, Earl. I’ll get help.” Her lover didn’t answer. He was too busy preventing Gyer from pulling out his hair by the roots.
Sometimes, when the days were long and lonely, Laura May had daydreamed dark men like the evangelist. She had imagined them coming before tornadoes, wreathed in dust. She had pictured herself lifted up by them-only half against her will-and taken away. But the man who had lain in her bed tonight had been utterly unlike her fever-dream lovers; he had been foolish and vulnerable. If he were to die at the hands of a man like Gyer-whose image she had conjured in her desperation-she would never forgive herself.
She heard her father say: “What’s going on?” in the far room. Something fell and smashed; a plate perhaps, from off the dresser, or a glass from his lap. She prayed her Papa wouldn’t try and tackle the evangelist. He would be chaff in the wind if he did. She went back to the bed to root for her clothes. They were wound up in the sheets, and her frustration mounted with every second she lost searching for them. She tossed the pillows aside. One landed on the dressing table; more of her exquisitely arranged pieces were swept to the floor. As she pulled on her underwear her father appeared at the door. His drink-flushed features turned a deeper red seeing her state.
“What you been doing, Laura May?”
“Never mind, Pa. There’s no time to explain.”
“But there’s men out there-”
“I know. I know. I want you to call the sheriff in Panhandle. Understand?”
“What’s going on?”
“Never mind. Just call Alvin and be quick about it or we’re going to have another murder on our hands.”
The thought of slaughter galvanized Milton Cade. He disappeared, leaving his daughter to finish dressing. Laura May knew that on a night like this Alvin Baker and his deputy could be a long time coming. In the meanwhile God alone knew what the mad-dog preacher would be capable of.