Read Online Rainwater by Sandra Brown - Free Book Online

those cows, get what meat was to be had off those skinny carcasses before it spoiled out there in the sun or was covered up with dirt. Folks that’ve been living on flour, water, and poke salad greens ain’t particular about their cuts of meat.”
    His eyes began leaking again. “But soon as those government men left, some locals moved in to see that the dead cows didn’t get butchered. They’s led by a rifle-toting white man with a purple birthmark on his face.”
    “Conrad.”
    Mr. Rainwater looked sharply at Ella, who’d spoken the name.
    “Conrad Ellis,” she said. “He has a birthmark that covers most of his face. A port-wine stain, I think they call it.”
    “I say it’s the mark of Cain,” Margaret muttered.
    “He’s a bully, always has been,” Ella said.
    “He be meaner than sin.”
    Ignoring her maid’s sneer, Ella went on. “Mr. Ellis, Conrad’s father, owns a meatpacking plant. He buys from most of the local ranchers.”
    “People getting free meat would be bad for his business,” Mr. Rainwater remarked. “So he sent his son out there to make sure those folks didn’t get any.”
    Ella frowned. “Conrad wouldn’t need an excuse. He enjoys beating up people. He’s always spoiling for a fight.”
    “Especially since—”
    “Margaret.”
    Ella’s implied reprimand stopped the maid from saying more, but she looked madder than a hornet as she came to her feet, mumbling, “I’ll put some coffee on.”
    Mr. Rainwater divided a curious look between Ella and Margaret, landing on Ella, who ignored his unspoken questions and returned her attention to Brother Calvin, who was saying, “That white boy was sure enough spoiling for a fight today.” He drained his glass of tea and carefully set it on the table.
    “Soon as those government shooters cleared out, those shantytown people, me with them, ran down into that hole and started butchering those cows. Long as they were dead anyway, they could feed folks. Tonight. Not wait till the government got around to distributing canned meat. That was my thinking. And Mr. Pritchett’s, too, I guess, ’cause him and his wife come back outside and were passing out kitchen knives to anybody who didn’t have one.
    “Then those boys roared up in a pickup truck, blaring the horn and shooting off firearms. They spilled out the back of that truck, waving baseball bats and rifles and yelling for those folks to scatter. When nobody paid them any mind but kept on hacking off pieces of those cows, they began knocking heads with the bats and the butts of their rifles. Men, kids, women, didn’t matter.”
    “Where was the law?”
    “The sheriff and a carload of deputies were there. Watching, but doing nothing till Mr. Pritchett took up a shotgun. He was shouting at those boys to get off his place and leave those poor shantytown folks alone, that all they wanted was meat that was gonna go to waste. Sheriff told him to put down that fool shotgun before he killed somebody.”
    Here the preacher began shaking his head and weeping more copiously. “I saw this myself. That mean one with the birthmark went up on the porch and yanked a little boy straight out of Mrs. Pritchett’s arms. Couldn’t’ve been more than two or three years old. He threatened to bash that child’s skull in if Mr. Pritchett didn’t lay down his shotgun and let him and his buddies get on with the business of making sure the government program went off like it was s’pposed to.”
    “Christ.”
    The minister looked at Mr. Rainwater with soulful eyes. “The Lord forgives you the blasphemy, Mr. Rainwater. It was an awful sight. Dreadful in His eyes, too.” He wiped tears from his eyes again. “I don’t think Mr. Roosevelt had this in mind, do you? Anyhow, seeing his wife goin’ all hysterical, and his baby boy’s life threatened, that well-meaning Mr. Pritchett just give up.
    “He dropped down on the steps of his porch and watched as those mean boys chased hungry folks back to