With Dignity

CHAPTER 1

Preview

Blood was everywhere and the screams; the screams filled the mountain with a freezing chill. The smell drew a tight, bitter taste to his mouth. The howls that came from the dogs were vicious and haunting. Blood on old Chalk’s mouth and the look in his eyes as he struck the dog dead was drawn in Matt's memory like indelible ink. Sarah Jean’s cries tore through his dream. Matt’s eyes flashed opened. He was sure his head would burst. The dim light from the rain filled clouds silhouetted Matt Hawkins, as he awkwardly struggled to sit up on the mattress. He leaned back on the wall and shook. Cold sweat soaked his back.

Picking his smoking pouch up off the floor, Matt removed the cigarette paper, folded it in the middle and poured the tobacco into its small crease. Some of it fell onto Matt’s bare leg and onto the mattress ticking. He closed the can and licked the paper shut. Striking the match on the bleached plank floor; the light flickered as he took in his first breath of smoke. Lizzie stirred.

Matt, did you have that bad dream again?

Ya, Go back to sleep. I’m alright.

He held the smoke in and slowly exhaled. How did I let this happen? What in the world is ever going to become of us now? How in God’s name did things go so wrong? I should have killed that mealy-mouthed Lowe Beckett, years ago. Matt lay back down on the mattress and hoped for a few more minutes of sleep. Maybe when I wake up all this, will be a bad dream, and everything will be back to the way it was.

CHAPTER 2

4 Years Earlier

1915

The air was heavy with moisture, and the heat of the day radiated from the ground as Matt Hawkins stepped out onto the wooden porch and let the screen door slam behind him. He wiped his hands on his overalls.

Ain’t there ever going to be a break in this heat? He wondered, as he settled his lean six-foot frame on the porch swing next to Lizzie. That was a fine supper, he said, patting her hand. Matt pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his face, pushing his course black hair off his forehead.

Matt had his grandmother’s dark Cherokee complexion and high cheekbones. At thirty-five, women still stared at him. Most of the local folks believed him to have a natural mean streak, and that was fine with him.

This had been the hottest summer Matt could remember in all his years on Beckett Mountain. He and Lizzie had farmed the old Quinn place for sixteen years. The weathered house was built high off the ground to accommodate the heavy Arkansas rain and snow.

Last winter was dry, and the snow never reached the high porch. The typical heavy spring rains ended earlier than usual, and as fall approached, he kept looking for signs of rain to rescue his parched fields.

The September sun sank slowly in the sky, it glared from behind the old pine tree. It promised to be another hot night. They sat in the wooden porch swing and talked in the quiet peacefulness that always settled in after supper.

Matt, looky down yonder, Lizzie said. Ain’t that Ronnie Beckett coming down the road?

Matt squinted toward the old pine. It marked the dividing line between the Hawkins and the Beckett farms. Sure, might be him. Don’t reckon it’s that brother of his, do you?

Not all gussied up like that. What do you reckon he’s all dolled up for?

Don’t know, shrugged Matt, as they watched the awkward teenager approach.

Ronnie Beckett didn’t dare raise his eyes from the front porch steps as he neared the Hawkins. He stopped at a respectable distance away and shuffled his feet in the dust.

Evening, Mr. Hawkins, Mrs. Hawkins. Ronnie’s voice trembled as he switched a bouquet of flowers from one hand to another.

Evenin’, Ronnie, both Hawkins answered.

Somebody die down your way? teased Matt, pointing to the boy.

Ronnie smiled. He felt pretty silly all decked out like a preacher. The flowers and suit were his mother’s idea. She had bought it for his high school graduation in June, and it was already too small. There wasn’t a breath of air, and sweat trickled from under Ronnie’s heavily greased hair.

Never you mind him, interrupted Lizzie. You look mighty handsome.

Ronnie blushed and switched his flowers to the other hand.

Hi, Ronnie! squealed four-year-old Luella from beneath the front porch, where she played in the cool with her favorite doll, Luella. Sport, the Hawkins’ best hound, lay panting beside her and shook his head as her long red braids brushed across his nose.

Hi, Luella, Ronnie answered.

You come to see Sarah Jean? She smiled up at him.

Joanna and Sarah Jean’s laughter drifted out through the screen door as the two sisters finished the supper dishes. Ronnie looked toward the door at the sound of their voices.

Sarah Jean, company’s a-callin’, Matt’s deep voice rumbled toward the kitchen. Sarah Jean the oldest of the Hawkins girls helped with the housecleaning, worked in the fields, cared for the younger girls, and attended high school. Of his three daughters, Matt was especially proud of her.

Sarah Jean ’spectin’ you? He turned to Ronnie. She never let on about going anywhere.

Well, sir, ah, it’s, I mean...Sarah Jean an’ me got somethin’ to talk about. Ronnie switched his flowers again.

Sarah Jean appeared in the doorway, her face flushed from standing over the hot dishpan, and the flour sack dress clung to her damp body. Her eyes sparkled as she saw Ronnie, and she nervously tugged at her apron. She was barely over five feet tall and appeared younger than her fifteen years. Her long black hair hanging past her waist made her stand out from most other girls on the mountain, where light brown or red hair was commonplace.

Ronnie! she exclaimed. I didn’t expect you to come so soon. Lifting the tail of her apron, Sarah Jean wiped her face. The screen door popped loudly as she stepped onto the porch and leaned over the rail toward Ronnie. I ain’t spoke to him yet, she whispered.

Matt’s eyes narrowed. What you two cookin’?

Sarah Jean nodded her encouragement to Ronnie.

He walked onto the porch and thrust the flowers into Mrs. Hawkins’ lap. Mrs. Hawkins, Mr. Hawkins, sir. I’d like to, well, Sarah Jean an’ me...

Lordy boy! Spit it out! What’s on your mind? snapped Matt.

Ronnie took a step backward. He was well over six feet tall and one of the first graduates of Mount Vernon’s new school. He was so grown up when he was alone with Sarah Jean, but at this moment standing before Hawkins, he felt like he was eight years old again and caught sneaking off with one of Matt Hawkins’ coonhounds.

Sarah Jean gave him a nudge.

Yes, sir! Well, sir... I want to marry Sarah Jean.

Marry! Matt’s feet hit the porch with a thud. Lizzie quickly reached out for her husband’s hand as he leaned forward.

Ronnie saw the look in Hawkins’ eyes and stepped further back.

Well, my goodness, interrupted Lizzie in her shrill voice. Ain’t that a surprise? She gave Matt’s hand a gentle tug, returning him to the swing. We weren’t ‘spectin’ this, Lizzie continued. Sarah Jean, your daddy an’ me will have to give this some thought. Reckon we’ll need some time, won’t we Matt?

Sarah Jean knelt at her daddy’s feet. Please don’t say no. Please think hard on it, Daddy. She took her father’s hands in hers. He’ll make the best husband in the whole world, Daddy. Please don’t say no.

Matt stared at Ronnie and down at Sarah Jean. You quit that, girl. Git up from here right now, he shook her loose.

He could seldom say no to Sarah Jean, but he just wasn’t ready for this. He thought he’d like to sic his hounds on Ronnie Beckett and send him running, but he knew Lizzie was going to side with Sarah Jean, and she’d start having a fit if he ran him off.

Git up, now, ya hear? You ain’t even sixteen yet, and you got your schoolin’ to finish. Lizzie, looky there at him, he motioned with his thumb toward Ronnie. He ain’t got no way of taking care of a family.

Well, sure seems to me we got a lot of talkin’ to do, answered Lizzie, fidgeting with her braids coiled at the back of her head.

Lizzie knew her husband well. It was important that he not make a hasty decision. Once he made up his mind, there would be no changing it.

We ain’t in any hurry, Daddy. You an’ Momma take your time. Ronnie and me can wait. Ain’t that so, Ronnie?

Right! You an’ Mrs. Hawkins talk about it, Ronnie answered.

He had sworn he would not let Matt send him quivering.

I should tell you, my Pa’s givin’ me the eighty acres up there on the rise. He pointed toward one of the best pieces of farmland on Beckett Mountain. An’ I have been saving money now for three years and Uncle Ed’s promised to give me my first year’s loan for a house and a cotton crop. Sarah Jean and me will be right close. And you’ll be welcome to come callin’ any time, he added.

Matt’s jaw twitched as he glared up at the lanky teenager. Right nice for the invite.

Again he thought about kicking Ronnie Beckett and his fancy new house all the way to the Arkansas River.

Good Lord, Sarah Jean. Lizzie’s voice intruded on Matt’s thoughts. Where’s your manners, girl? Take Ronnie down to the branch and fetch him a cool cup of water. He looks a mite flustered. I could sure use one myself.

Sarah Jean stood and wiped her face again. How ’bout you Daddy? Can we bring you back a cool drink?

That’d be fine, he answered.

Ronnie followed Sarah Jean into the house, through the kitchen and out to the back porch. She took the oak bucket from the hook beside the back door. Ronnie threw his coat and tie over the porch railing and quickly unlaced his tight shoes. With several big steps he caught up with her.

Are you mad? Ronnie asked as he took the bucket from her.

No, I’m not mad, just worried. I wish I’d had time to soften Daddy up some. I didn’t think you were coming so soon.

I told you at church I was ready, Ronnie protested. You said there weren’t nothin’ to stop me. He didn’t look mad. I think he took it purty good.

Sarah Jean stepped up her pace and swept her hair back over her shoulder. You got a lot to learn about Daddy. You’d better be a-choosin’ your words mighty careful if you want to be a-marrying me before I turn gray.

Well, you saw the way I handled him. He just sat back down on that swing as purty as you please, Ronnie grabbed Sarah Jean’s arm and spun her around, stopping her brisk pace. His dark suntanned face was the perfect setting for his cloudy blue eyes. Well, he didn’t holler or sic his hounds on me, did he?

She couldn’t help but laugh. They exchanged a quick tight hug, and then glanced about to see if anyone was watching. This summer had passed quickly for Ronnie and Sarah Jean. Whenever they could sneak away, they’d spend their time hiding in cornfields or behind the church, sharing secret kisses and caresses. Once after dark, they even went skinny-dipping in Cadron Creek. They were no longer shy with one another, but Ronnie had set careful limits, and they made sure no one ever saw them alone. He knew if Hawkins heard of it, there would be no telling what he might do.

You big bear, she laughed. You’d make a mighty poor husband if you were filled with buckshot, she, motioning toward the house.

I’ll tell ’em you jumped me, teased Ronnie. He took her hand and pulled her into the grove of trees, pressing her against a hickory nut tree where they paused for a long kiss.

No more kiddin’ Sarah Jean. You’re still gonna marry me, even if your daddy says no, ain’t ya?

Did you see the look on his face, Ronnie? He ain’t as tough as he lets on. Standing on her tiptoes, Sarah Jean could not reach Ronnie’s lips without him bending down. She tugged at his shirt collar until he bent to kiss her again. He’s going to say yes, she assured him. I ain’t gonna think no other way.

Matt squirmed uneasily while Lizzie held tight to his hand. They watched Ronnie and Sarah Jean go into the house. He knew Lizzie had always favored Ronnie. She bragged about what a fine son he was to Virginia and Lowe and how hard he worked. Well, if that Beckett boy thought he was going to saunter up here and just walk off with one of his little girls, he had another think coming, especially with Sarah Jean. She was always laughing and helping with everything without complaining. She was so tiny and fragile. He wanted someone special for her, not just any old boy.

Lizzie, do you remember the time Ol’ Jake kicked Sarah Jean in the side of the head? he asked.

Lord, yes. Just about scared us all to death.

I did a lot of praying in those three days. She’s always been a real joy to have around. Guess I know first-hand how your pa felt when I up and ran off with you like I did. It sure don’t seem like it’s been twenty years.

It ain’t been twenty years silly goose. We just celebrated our sixteen-year anniversary in May. We got a ways to go to twenty. Here in only a few short months it’ll be 1916. Matt Hawkins you’ve proved to be a fine husband and a good daddy. Now you need to make Ronnie feel welcome and a part of our family. You gotta’ give him a chance to make Sarah Jean a good husband. Lizzie took Matt’s hand and held it in her lap and rocked the swing as she spoke.

I ain’t said yes, woman.

I can tell you right off, Sarah Jean ain’t interested in finishing her schooling. She can read any book wrote, and she does all your figuring and writing. She can cook and keep house best as I do. And he’s a God-fearing Christian boy from a good family. You know there ain’t no finer young man around these parts.

Well, how d’ya know? Matt asked. Just ’cause you ain’t ever seen any don’t mean there ain’t any. How about that brother of his? He’s always had an eye for Sarah Jean. And then there’s Dole Gray? questioned Matt.

Well, Matt Hawkins! That Lonnie Beckett’s got a wild seed in him. I’ve heard you say so yourself a dozen times. They may be twins, but lookin’ alike is far as it goes. As for Dole Gray, I’ve heard you with my own ears say if he ever comes around here you’d kick him three ways to heaven.

Matt twisted his big weathered hand from Lizzie’s grip. Guess maybe I was a bit hasty. I got nothin’ against those boys.

Yes, I don’t think you got nothing against any of ’em, and you ain’t got nothing against Ronnie Beckett, either.

Momma, can I fix us all some berries and cream? called Joanna from the kitchen.

Matt stirred from the swing. Not me, sugar. Daddy’s got to get back to his chores. We’ll finish this later, Lizzie. Matt cleared his throat and pulled himself up out of the swing. What’s keepin’ those two? That branch ain’t that far. Joanna, you give your sister a holler, he ordered, as he took the steps two at a time and headed for the barn.

Luella and me will be in directly, called Lizzie toward the kitchen. Come on, Luella. Let’s go pen up the chickens.

CHAPTER 3

Virginia and Lowe Beckett could not go to sleep. They were both anxious to hear what Matt Hawkins’ reaction was to Ronnie’s proposal. They shared mixed feelings about their son's announcement to ask Sarah Jean Hawkins to marry him. Most of the folks on Beckett Mountain would not be surprised to hear that Ronnie and Sarah Jean were planning on getting married. The Becketts’ twin boys and the Hawkins’ girls had been sneaking off to play together for as long as anyone could remember.

Lowe and Matt had been neighbors for almost twenty years. They seldom spoke, and when they did it usually ended in an argument. Matt’s dislike for Lowe went back to when they were teenagers and Matt did not have the money to take Lizzie to a school dance. Lowe asked Lizzie to go with him and even though Lizzie said no, Matt still held a grudge against him. Lowe did everything he could to discourage the children’s friendship, but it seemed the more he tried, the stronger their bonds became. His worst fears came true last Sunday after church, when Ronnie told them he was going to ask for Sarah Jean’s hand. In spite of their differences with Matt Hawkins, he and Virginia had always been fond of Sarah Jean. There was no doubt she was one of the most beautiful Christian girls on the mountain. They knew she would make a wonderful wife for Ronnie, but they were also concerned about her father’s reputation for being a hothead and his hatred toward the Becketts. He always went out of his way to stay clear of Matt. Lowe was sure Hawkins was jealous that the Becketts had more money and was still mad because he could not afford to take Lizzie to that school dance. But Hawkins seemed to get along with other folks who had a lot more money than his family. Lowe preferred to believe Hawkins was just crazy. He didn’t want his son related to a crazy man. However, he promised Virginia and Ronnie that he would not interfere and he would give the couple his blessings, if Hawkins approved.

Ronnie? That you, dear? Virginia called from the bedroom.

It’s me, Ma, the answer came from the kitchen. Ronnie poured himself a cup of cold coffee and stared out the window into the darkness.

Virginia slipped on her faded blue chenille bed robe and joined her son. Here now, let me warm that up for you. She took the cup, poured the coffee into the pot, and stoked the cook-stove fire back to life. Lowe followed his wife into the kitchen.

What happened? he asked. What did Hawkins say? What took you so long?

Lowe, give him a chance to catch his breath, chided Virginia. Tell us everything, She urged.

Ronnie pulled a chair away from the cherry wood table his mother had bought on her last visit to her parents in Atlanta. He turned the chair around backward and straddled it. His long legs stretched out into the roomy kitchen.

Well, it’s like this. I just sauntered up to old man Hawkins and said, Sarah Jean and me are a-gettin’ married, and you and your wife are welcome to the wedding. And then I handed Mrs. Hawkins those flowers you fixed up," Ronnie grinned.

Sure you did, Lowe scoffed. Then what’d old Hawkins do? Give you a big hug?

I’m teasing, Pa, Ronnie apologized. I guess it went about as well as I could expect. I got invited to stay to eat some berries. And when old Hawkins came in from doing chores in the barn, he acted like nothing was ever said.

Virginia poured the coffee and handed a cup to Ronnie. Well, for Pete’s sake, son, he must’ve said something.

He says I’m too young, and he wants Sarah Jean to finish school. He says I got no way to take care of her, but he’s going to think about it. So, I guess that’s a good sign. Ronnie stood and pushed his chair under the table.

Did you tell him your pa’s giving you some land and that your uncle’s going to give you a good loan? asked Virginia.

I told him, Ma. He knows I can take care of Sarah Jean; he just don’t want her getting’ married.

Lowe stood up. He felt bad for his son, but could understand Matt Hawkins’ concern about his daughter—she was a fragile looking little thing. He was relieved that Hawkins had not said yes so quickly. Lowe was surprised Matt had taken the news as well as it seemed.

I wouldn’t worry ’bout it too much, son. If it is meant to be it will happen. Come along, Ginny. Let’s try to get some sleep.

Virginia kissed her son good night. You’d better get to bed now, dear.

I think I’ll wait a while for Lonnie.

Well, don’t wait up too long. Daylight comes mighty quick.

Night, Ma, he answered.

Ronnie took his coffee out to the back porch. Corky, his favorite coon dog and his only Walker hound, jumped up, sniffing at his cup.

The other hounds in the pen bounded over to yap their greeting through the chicken wire.

Shush. Lay down, he commanded. Corky leaped over and scratched at the chicken wire.

Okay, boy. Would you like some company? Ronnie pulled the stick away from the pen gate and the hounds all ran out yelping. Now lay down ya’ll and be quiet. Ronnie had nine of the finest coonhounds on the mountain. There were none better, except for Matt Hawkins’. His Pa complained about his keeping so many, but he couldn’t bear to part with any of them. Surrounded by his hounds, Ronnie settled down on the porch, leaned against the post, and dozed off.

It was around midnight when he was awakened by Corky’s whines. Through the darkness he could see Lonnie’s shadow leading Uncle Ed’s horse, Charlie, into the barn. Ronnie arose and headed for the barn with his hounds at his heels.

Lonnie, one of these days Pa’s gonna wear out his shackle on your back side when he catches you comin’ in like this, drunk as a skunk. Ronnie stood behind his twin brother and watched him as he tried to untangle the bridle reins.

Lonnie laughed. Well, he’ll never know if you and those crazy hounds of yours don’t tell him.

Crazy? Who are you to talk about crazy? Here, you’d better let me help you. Go sit down. Ronnie directed Lonnie toward a bale of straw.

Looking at Lonnie was like looking in a mirror, except for the way he dressed. Lonnie always tried to be different. He dressed in jeans and always wore shiny red cowboy boots. You seldom saw him without his big black Stetson hat.

If Lonnie was the one asking for Sarah Jean, he wouldn’t take anything from Hawkins, Ronnie thought to himself. He turned to discover his brother had slid off the bale of straw and was asleep on the barn floor. Come on, cowboy. I’d better get you to bed, coaxed Ronnie.

Oh! Gee, Ron. I ’most forgot, he mumbled. When’s the wedding?

I think it will be soon enough, an’ you’d better be sober, old feller. He wondered if Lonnie’s drunken state had anything to do with his announcement that he was going to ask Sarah Jean to marry him.

Lonnie had often joked about Ronnie’s not wanting to share Sarah Jean. We share faces, clothes, Ma’s food, a bed, and now you don’t want to share your girl? You ain’t no brother at all, he’d tease.

Ronnie had guessed for a long time that his twin might secretly have his eyes on Sarah Jean. He often wondered what he would do if the situation were reversed. It was hard to think of living his life without her. He heaved his brother up over his shoulder like a sack of wet cotton and stumbled into the house and through to the bedroom, where he flopped Lonnie on the bed. He tugged at Lonnie’s boots until they reluctantly came off. Lonnie was sleeping soundly when Ronnie left him to go back to lock up the hounds. As he came in through the back door his mother called out, You’d better quiet down, Lonnie Beckett.

Yes Ma, Ronnie answered dutifully for his brother. He returned to the dark bedroom, undressed, and crawled into bed beside Lonnie.

Thanks, whispered Lonnie.

Shush. I thought you were asleep.

I fell off the damn bed! Lonnie paused. You’d be doing me a big favor if you’d lay still, old feller, he begged pitifully.

Hush, you crazy fool. I’m as still as I can get without being dead.

Several minutes passed, and Lonnie reached out and gave his twin a pat on his shoulder. It’ll be alright, Ron. Don’t you go a-worrying about me. You marry Sarah Jean and just be happy, I’ll be fine, you hear? Everything’ll turn out.

Lonnie Beckett loved and admired his identical twin brother, even though at times he was fitfully jealous. Whenever people talked about the Beckett boys, it was usually Ronnie who