Desperation Road(58)

“That’s how I got damn near everywhere,” she said. “I just didn’t want to leave her but I don’t know how much more she can take.”

“Don’t you have anywhere you can go?”

She shook her head. “If I did I’d be there already.”

Outside the child shrieked again.

“Maybe she could…” Maben started.

“Maybe she could,” Russell said.

“Let her rest some. Eat some.”

“If you think so.”

Maben then fell back on the bed. Held her hands up toward the ceiling. Traced the circling fan with her index fingers, making quick circles. Then she paused and let her arms fall out to the side and she made a T. “I don’t know how much more she can take,” she said again.

“She’ll be fine. A week or two and you’ll be back and maybe y’all can start over.”

“I heard that one before,” she said and she turned on her side. Closed her eyes.

Sleep as long as you want, he told her. He left and she pulled the blanket over her and she closed her eyes and she listened to the sound of the child’s voice every few minutes whenever she reeled in another fish. The voice seemed to leap across the quiet country and it was the sound of happiness and as she listened to it Maben wasn’t sure that it could be the voice of something that belonged to her.





40


RUSSELL WALKED OUT TO THE POND. MITCHELL WAS UNHOOKING A catfish from Annalee’s line and her eyes danced with the jerks of the struggling fish. Mitchell pried it free and dropped the fish into a cooler where several more catfish flopped and sucked their last breaths. Consuela stood on the other side of the pond with her own pole and her line was straight and still.

“You’re gonna catch them all if you don’t slow up,” Russell said to the girl. She smiled at him and asked if she could do it again. Mitchell said sure but then picked up a cardboard box from the ground and opened it and saw they were out of worms.

“We gotta get some more bait. Wanna ride to town?” he asked her.

“Yeah,” she said and she handed him the cane pole.

“Run up there and wash your hands off with the hose and head on to my truck. Meet you there,” Mitchell said and he set the pole and empty bait box on top of the cooler.

Maybe that’s not such a good idea, Russell wanted to say. She can’t be seen with you. With us. But that would mean letting Mitchell in and he didn’t want to do that. So he said I’ll ride with you.

“Good,” his father answered and he slapped his son’s arm. Then he turned and yelled across the pond to Consuela. Voy a la tienda.

Russell looked at him sideways and said I bet you think you’re pretty damn smart and the two men walked together toward the house. Annalee held the hose and sprayed one hand and then she swapped hands and did the same. She turned off the nozzle and ran across the yard to Mitchell’s pickup and climbed in without waiting. Mitchell stopped at the hose and got a drink and then they got in the truck with Annalee sitting between them on the bench seat and ready for a ride.


Boyd walked into the sheriff’s department just as Gina was yelling at Harvey Dennis to put out that damn cigar. Smells like ass and you ain’t supposed to smoke in here.

“Shut the hell up,” the sheriff yelled back.

Boyd stopped at her desk as she spun around in her chair, a feisty little woman with glasses on her head and a small mouth seemingly stuck in the smirk she had worn every day of her twenty-five years at the department. “Not again,” Boyd said.

“You can tell when the shit hits the fan around here cause he starts puffing on them things,” she said and she opened a desk drawer and pulled out a can of air freshener. She sprayed a circle around her desk as if to form some sort of meadow-scented force field.

“I’m guessing I can go on in,” Boyd said.

“I’m guessing you can.”

The small office building was square and built for function with linoleum floors and cinderblock walls and industrial lighting. Every wall was painted the same shade of vanilla and metal file cabinets lined the hallways and most of them needed a hammer or at least a screwdriver to get into. Harvey’s door was open. Boyd tapped his knuckles on the wooden frame.

“Got a minute?”

The sheriff was sitting with his feet propped on the desk and a cigar between his fingers. A cloud of smoke engulfed him. His hair was thick and gray and combed in an arrow-straight part. “You can have as many minutes as you want if you can fill them up with something I wanna hear. But I’m going to say you’re about to tell me Russell Gaines didn’t do a damn thing and don’t know a damn thing.”

Boyd walked into the office and sat down in a chair across from Harvey’s desk. He started to cross his legs but he was too big for the chair and they wouldn’t cross so he slouched instead.

“This air freshener don’t do nothing,” Gina griped.

“Go to lunch,” Harvey called to her.

“It’s ten thirty.”

“Then go to brunch. Go somewhere. Leave me alone,” he said and he brought the cigar to his mouth and puffed again. He blew the smoke straight up and then said by God she’s bound to retire one day.

“I ain’t deaf,” she yelled and they heard her desk drawer and then the office door slam.