Once Upon a River Page 0,59
the gun club. The notion surprised her. Cal and his sons belonged to the Rod and Gun Club between Murrayville and Confluence, but Margo didn’t know of any women members.
Margo shot at hunks of squash until the light became gold-tinged. She took off her ear coverings and sat cross-legged against a tree and waited for the birds to return. The sound of the cicadas rose to a screechy roar and then gradually subsided. Margo imitated the nasal yank-yank of a white-breasted nuthatch and then the meow of a catbird perched between her and the water. When she heard Michael’s car pulling in the driveway, she smiled and meowed in his direction, though he couldn’t see or hear her. A few minutes later, as she was heading back toward the house with her shotgun, she saw a pontoon boat pull up and tie off at the oil-barrel float. Margo ducked down and watched Michael make his way across the gangplank and onto the float to talk to the visitor. As she crept nearer, she confirmed what she’d feared: Michael was talking to Paul. Margo stayed hidden and moved closer so she could hear their voices.
“Well, where is she, then?” Paul said. His face was haggard. “I’d like to talk to her.”
“She seems to want to avoid you.”
“She doesn’t belong to you. Tell her I want to talk to her.”
Margo crouched so quietly that a coot continued moving downstream past her.
“Of course she doesn’t belong to me,” Michael said. “She belongs to herself.”
“Is that her in the house?” Paul said. Margo saw that Cleo was standing up almost as tall as a small person with her paws against the screen door. Margo hid herself behind the trunk of a willow. The cicadas grew louder again.
“That’s my dog,” Michael said.
“I saw her earlier, from across the river. I know she’s here.”
As if on command, the fishing dog barked.
“Did you do something to her?” Michael said.
“She doesn’t mind what a man does. She’s a game girl.” Paul stepped off the front of the boat and onto the oil-barrel float. It tipped under his weight. He stepped to the center and stood a few feet from Michael. No one else was on the boat. Margo glanced across the river at the dark, empty cabin. When Paul had gone up the river some hours ago, he must have ferried Charlie and Johnny back to Heart of Pines.
“What do you want with her?” Michael asked.
“I want to tell her that my brother Brian will be away for eight years on an assault charge, plus six more for manslaughter. Damned lawyer convinced him to plead guilty. He said he’d get a few years off for good behavior. Problem is, my brother forgets what good behavior is when he’s got to show off for a bunch of guys.”
“Who’s Brian to her?” Michael asked.
“She doesn’t tell you anything, does she? My brother is in prison because of doing a little dirty work for her.”
“She’s just a kid. She’s not responsible for what men do.”
“And she’s got some things she took from me and Brian. A shotgun, for one.”
Margo wanted to scream over the cicadas that Brian gave her that shotgun, but she stayed put.
“Maybe I’ll take her boat instead. As an exchange.”
“Why don’t you leave now?” Michael said. “Get off my property.”
“It’s funny for a little feller like you to threaten me.” Paul stepped backward, causing the float to tip, and then rocked it a few times by shifting his weight. The current held the Playbuoy tight against the float, and its side knocked against the planks.
“I’ll call the police if you don’t leave,” Michael said. He fought to keep his balance. Margo wanted to tell Michael that threatening Paul with the law wasn’t going to calm him down.
“Do you really think the police would get here in time if I wanted to hurt you?” Paul grabbed the front of Michael’s shirt and pulled him forward. Margo remembered Paul’s strength when he had grabbed her in Brian’s bedroom. Michael stiffened, pushed against Paul, and almost fell backward into the water. Then he straightened up and stood his ground again.
“Just bring her out here,” Paul said.
Margo moved closer. Paul’s face was almost as familiar to her as Michael’s. At this distance, she saw how even his good eye looked strange, red-rimmed and oily.
“And I hope you don’t think you’ve got some innocent flower,” Paul said to Michael. “I’ve had a piece of her myself.”
Margo’s heart raced. Her daddy had begged her,