hands with the devil, but the devil I knew was better than the devil I didn’t
know. Yeah, I believed him, Tom. I still believe him.”
“So you knew where his hideout was all along. And there you were makin’
everybody believe you couldn’t find hide nor hair of him.”
“That’s right. It’s near where Cory and the boys saw that box change
hands. I honestly don’t know what was inside it, but I do know Gerald Hargison
and Dick Moultry are Klansmen from way back. But now I’m a sinner and slime of
the earth and I’m not fit to walk the streets with decent people.” Sheriff
Amory directed his hard gaze at my dad. “I don’t need to be told I’ve messed
things up, Tom. I know I was wrong. I know I’ve shamed the office of sheriff.
And shamed my family, which is killin’ me when people I thought were our good
friends look at Lucinda and the girls like they crawled out of a spittoon.
Like I say, we’ll be leavin’ town before long. But I’ve got one last duty to
perform as the elected sheriff of Zephyr.”
“What might that be? Openin’ the bank vault for Biggun?”
“No,” the sheriff said quietly. “Makin’ sure Donny goes to prison for
murder. Manslaughter, at the very least.”
“Oh,” Dad said, and I know he must’ve felt an inch tall. But he grew back
quickly enough. “What’s Biggun gonna think about that? After he’s been payin’
you to lay off?”
“Biggun didn’t pay me to protect a killer. And that’s what Donny is. I
just thank God he didn’t kill Miss Grace, too. I knew Stevie Cauley. He
might’ve been a tough guy, and he had his share of scrapes with me, but he was
decent. His folks are good people, too. So I’m not gonna let Donny slither out
of this, Tom. No matter what Biggun threatens me with.”
“Has he threatened you?” Mom asked as Dad stood up to shift a fireplace
log with the poker.
“Yes. Warned me, is more like it.” Sheriff Amory’s brows merged, the
lines between his eyes deepening. “Day after tomorrow, two marshals from the
county seat are comin’ on the Trailways bus. It’s bus number thirty-three, and
it comes in at noon. I’m to have all the transfer papers ready, and they’re
gonna take custody of Donny.”
The Trailways bus came through Zephyr every other day, on its way to
Union Town. On rare occasions it stopped, under the little Trailways sign at
the Shell gas station on Ridgeton Street, to pick up or disgorge a passenger
or two. But most days it sped on, going somewhere else.
“I found a little black book in a pocket under the driver’s seat of
Donny’s car,” the sheriff explained. Dad fed another log into the fire, but he
was listening. “It’s got names and numbers in it that I think have to do with
gamblin’ on high school football games. Some names are in there that might
surprise you. Not Zephyr people, but names you might know from the newspapers
if you keep up with politics. I think the Blaylocks might have been payin’ a
coach or two to throw games.”
“My Lord!” Mom breathed.
“Those two marshals are comin’ to pick up Donny, and I’ve gotta make sure
he’s there to meet ’em.” Sheriff Amory ran a finger along the edge of his
star. “Biggun says he’ll kill me before he lets me put his son on that bus. I
figure he means to, Tom.”
“He’s bluffin’!” Dad said. “Tryin’ to scare you into lettin’ Donny go!”
“This mornin’ there was somethin’ dead on our front porch. I think… it
might’ve been a cat. But it was all chopped to pieces and the blood was
smeared everywhere and on our front door was written Donny won’t go in cat’s
blood. You should’ve seen the girls’ faces when they saw that mess.” Sheriff
Amory lowered his head for a moment, and stared at the floor. “I’m scared.
Awful scared. I think Biggun’s gonna try to kill me and spring Donny out of
jail before that bus comes in.”
“I’d be more afraid those damned snakes would go after Lucinda and the
girls,” Mom said, and I knew she was heated up about it because she hardly
ever cursed.
“I sent ’em to Lucinda’s mother this mornin’, after what happened. She
called me around two o’clock, said they’d gotten there fine.” He lifted his
face and looked at my father with a tortured expression. “I need help, Tom.”
Sheriff Amory went on to explain that he needed three or four men to
deputize, and that they’d all spend tonight, tomorrow, and tomorrow night at
the jail guarding Donny.
He said he’d deputized Jack Marchette, who was at the jail pulling guard
duty right this minute, but that he was having trouble finding anybody else.
He’d asked ten men, he said, and been turned down ten times. It would be
dangerous work, he said. The deputies would each get fifty dollars out of his
own pocket, and that was all he could afford to pay. But there were pistols
and ammunition at the jailhouse, and the jailhouse itself was as firm as a
fortress. The tricky part, he said, would be taking Donny from his cell to the
bus stop.
“That’s the story.” Sheriff Amory gripped his bony knees. “Can I deputize
you, Tom?”
“No!” Mom’s voice almost shook the windows. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I’m sorry to have to ask this of Tom, Rebecca. I swear I am. But it’s
got to be done.”
“Ask somebody else, then! Not Tom!”
“Can I get your answer?” the sheriff urged.
Dad stood next to the fireplace, the logs crackling. His eyes went from
Sheriff Amory to Mom and back again, with a quick dart toward me. He slid his
hands into his pockets, his face downcast. “I… don’t know what to say.”
“You know what’s right, don’t you?”
“I do. But I know I don’t believe in violence. I can’t stand the thought
of it. Especially… not the way I’ve been feelin’ for the last few months. Like
I’m walkin’ on eggshells with an anvil strapped to my back. I know I couldn’t
pull a trigger and shoot anybody. I know that for a fact.”
“You wouldn’t have to carry a gun, then. I wouldn’t expect you to. Just
be there to show Biggun he can’t get away with murder.”
“Unless the Blaylocks murder all of you!” Mom fairly leaped from her
chair. “No! Tom’s been under a lot of stress lately, and he’s not in any
physical or mental shape to—”
“Rebecca!” Dad snapped. She hushed. “I can speak for myself, thank you,”
he said.
“Just tell me yes, Tom.” Sheriff Amory was pleading now. “That’s all I
want to hear.”
Dad was in pain. I could see its grim mark on his face. He did know what
was right, but he was all twisted up and hurting inside, and the chilly hand
of the man at the bottom of Saxon’s Lake clutched the back of his neck. “No,”
he said, his voice raspy. “I can’t, J.T.”
May I be forgiven. I thought one word, and that word was Yellowstreak.
Immediately I was overcome with shame, and my face was burning as I got up and
ran to my room.
“Cory!” Dad called. “Wait a minute!”
“Well, that’s just fine!” Sheriff Amory stood up, and he plucked his hat
from the coffee table and jammed it on his head. The crown was crushed, the
silver star awry. “Just damn fine! Everybody wants the Blaylocks put behind
bars and they kick my ass for takin’ his dirty money, but when it comes a
chance to actually do somethin’ about ’em, everybody and their brother,
sister, and uncle runs for the hills! Just damned fine!”
Dad said, “I wish I could—”
“Forget it. Stay home. Stay safe. Good night.” Sheriff Amory walked out
the door into the cold. The leaves crunched under his shoes, the sound fading.
Dad stood at the window and watched him drive away.
“Don’t worry about him,” Mom said. “He’ll find enough deputies.”
“What if he doesn’t? What if everybody does run for the hills?”
“Then if this town doesn’t care enough about law and order to help their
sheriff, Zephyr deserves to dry up and blow away.”
Dad turned toward her, his mouth a tight line. “We’re Zephyr, Rebecca.
You and me. Cory. J.T. The ten men he asked who turned him down, they’re
Zephyr, too. It’s people’s souls and caring for each other that dries up and
blows away before buildin’s and houses do.”
“You can’t help him, Tom. You just can’t. If somethin’ happened to you…”
She didn’t finish, because that train of thought led to a desolate
destination.
“Maybe he did wrong, but he deserves help. I should’ve said I would.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. You’re not a fighter, Tom. Those Blaylocks would
kill you before you could blink.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t blink,” Dad said, his face stony.
“Just do what J.T. said, Tom. Stay home and stay safe. Okay?”
“Fine example I’m settin’ for Cory. Did you see the way he looked at me?”
“He’ll get over it,” Mom said. She made an effort to summon a smile. “How
about a nice piece of spice cake and a cup of coffee?”
“I don’t want any spice cake. I don’t want any apple pie, or coconut
muffins, or blueberry fritters. All I want is some—” He had to stop speaking,
but the rush of emotion choked him. Peace might have been the next word he was
going to say. “I’m gonna go talk to Cory,” he told her, and he came to my room
and knocked on the door.
I let him in. I had to. He was my dad. He sat down on my bed, while I
held a Blackhawk comic book close to my face. Before he’d come in, I’d been
remembering something Vernon had said: Sheriff Amory’s a good man, just not a
good sheriff. He lets the birds fly when he’s got his paws on them. I guess it
could never be said that Sheriff Amory wasn’t trying to do well by his family.
Dad cleared his throat. “Well, I reckon I’m lower than a snake’s pecker, is
that right?”
I would’ve laughed at that any other time. I just stared at my comic
book, attempting to climb inside the world of sleek ebony airplanes and
square-jawed heroes who used their wits and fists for justice.
Maybe I betrayed myself somehow. Maybe Dad had an instant of reading my
mind. He said, “The world’s not a comic book, son.” Then he touched my
shoulder, and he stood up and closed the door on his way out.
I had a bad sleep that night. If it wasn’t the four girls calling my
name, it was the car going over the red rock cliff into black water, and then
Midnight Mona raced through me and Biggun Blaylock’s demonic, bearded face
said I threw in an extra for good luck and Lucifer’s shotgun-ripped head
screamed from his grave and Mrs. Lezander offered me a glass of Tang and said
Sometimes he stays up until dawn listening to the foreign countries.
I lay staring into darkness.
I hadn’t told Dad or Mom about Dr. Lezander’s distaste for milk or his
liking to be a night owl. Surely that had nothing to do with the car in
Saxon’s Lake. What earthly reason would Dr. Lezander have to kill a stranger?
And Dr. Lezander was a kind man who loved animals, not a savage beast who had
beaten a man half to death and then strangled the other half with a piano
wire. It was unthinkable!
Yet I was thinking it.
Vernon had been right about Sheriff Amory. Could he be right about the
milk-hating night owl, too?
Vernon was crazy, but like the Beach Boys, he got around. Like the eye of
God, he watched the comings and goings of the citizens of Zephyr, saw their
grand hopes and mean schemes. He saw life laid bare. And maybe he was aware of
more than he even knew.
I decided. I was going to have to start watching Dr. Lezander. And Mrs.
Lezander, too. How could he be such a monster under his civilized skin, and
her not know it?
The next day, which was cold and drizzly, I pedaled Rocket past Dr.
Lezander’s after school. Of course he and his wife were both inside. Even the
two horses were in the barn. I don’t know what I was looking for, I just
wanted to look. There had to be more to tie the doctor to Saxon’s Lake than
Vernon’s theories. That night, the silence at the dinner table couldn’t have
been cleaved with a chain saw. I didn’t trust myself to meet Dad’s gaze, and
Dad and Mom were avoiding looking at each other as well. So it was a merry
dinner, all around.
Then, as we were eating the pumpkin pie that we were all getting so
heartily sick of, Dad said, “They let Rick Spanner go today.”
“Rick? He’s been with Green Meadows as long as you!”
“That’s right,” Dad said, and he picked at the crust with his fork.
“Talkin’ to Neil Yarbrough this mornin’. He hears they’re cuttin’ back. Have
to, because of that damn… that supermarket,” he corrected himself, though his
curse was already flying. “Big Paul’s Pantry.” He snorted so hard I thought
pumpkin pie might come through his nose. “Milk in plastic jugs. What’ll they
figure out next to mess things up?”
“Leah Spanner just had a baby in August,” Mom said. “That’s their third
one. What’s Rick gonna do?”
“I don’t know. He left as soon as they told him. Neil says he heard they
gave him a month’s pay, but that won’t go very far with four mouths to feed.”
He put down his fork. “Maybe we can take ’em a pie or somethin’.”
“I’ll make a fresh one first thing in the mornin’.”
“That’d be good.” Dad reached out, and he placed his hand over Mom’s.
With all that had been going on—said and left unsaid—it was a heartening
sight. “I have a feelin’ that’s just the start of it, Rebecca. Green Meadows
can’t compete with those supermarket prices. We cut our rates for our regular
customers last week, and then Big Paul’s Pantry undercut us two days later. I
think it’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets any better.” I saw his
hand squeeze Mom’s, and she squeezed back. They were in it together, for the
long haul.
“One other thing.” Dad paused. His jaw clenched and relaxed. He was
obviously having a hard time spitting this out, whatever it was. “I talked to
Jack Marchette this afternoon. He was at the Shell station when I stopped to
fill up the truck. He said—” Again, this was a thorny obstruction in his
throat. “He said J.T.’s only found one more volunteer deputy other than Jack
himself. You know who that is?”
Mom waited.
“The Moon Man.” A tight smile flickered across Dad’s face. “Can you
believe that? Out of all the able-bodied men in this town, only Jack and the
Moon Man are gonna stand with J.T. against the Blaylocks. I doubt if the Moon
