Hmm.
“What can you tell me about them?” He tried to sound conversational, but it came across too cop-like, even to Sawyer’s ears. “They seem nice enough.”
“Oh yes. Big Otis, he’s my favourite out of all them. Looks after me real good. He’ll even bring my groceries up for me. Him or Dylan. They come check on me.”
Well... that surprised Sawyer.
He wasn’t sure why.
“That reminds me,” Mr Brown said. “Can you drop something off to Otis at the store for me? I couldn’t find my cheque book when he was here. He told me not to worry, but I don’t like owing anything.”
He wandered back into his house and came out a few seconds later holding a white envelope. The paper looked as old as Sawyer, and the writing was shaky, that old calligraphic style of handwriting a long-lost art these days.
“I sure can pass it along for you.”
He gave a nod. “Good. Good.”
Sawyer pointed his chin over at the old garage, which, upon closer inspection, looked more precarious than before. “Is that your EJ Holden in there?”
His tired eyes lit up. “Oh yes. I’m not much good for driving these days. Eyesight’s no good. She’s a beauty, though. Bought her brand-new in ’63. Fraser keeps her running for me, though. He’s good with engines. Did you know?”
“Ah, thought he stuck to boat engines.” A reasonable assumption, considering Sawyer hadn’t seen another single car in town...
“Does a bit of everything, I think. He fixes things. Same with Tobin. Not much any of ’em can’t do. If you need anything, they’ll help.” Then his brow narrowed. “Except that no-good quack. Made me quit the pipe.” He pulled the pipe out of his mouth. “Hasn’t been lit in years but just a habit for my hands and mouth.”
“Yeah, doctors don’t like smoking much these days.” It was obvious to Sawyer that someone was missing from Mr Brown’s assessment, so he decided to bring him up. “And what about Ciaran?”
“What about him?”
“Well, I don’t think he likes me much. Hasn’t said so much as a word to me.” Sawyer wasn’t about to mention the sneering and the incident in the diner. “Wondered if it was just me, of if he’s like that with all newcomers to town.”
Mr Brown cracked a smile and took the pipe out of his mouth. “Let me tell you something about that boy. He’s a good one. Looks after them all. Keeps them all in line. Maybe don’t take it too personally. He’s protective of his town, that’s all.”
His town?
His town?
“Right,” Sawyer said. “Got it. I’ll give him some time. Hopefully he’ll see that I’m here to stay.”
Mr Brown laughed, and the sound whispered through the trees in an eerie way that made Sawyer shiver.
“Time, huh,” Mr Brown said. “Well, we got plenty of that around here.”
The clouds seemed to come in low then, and it made Sawyer think about Mr Brown’s old house and how he stayed warm uphere. He doubted the hut had power or lights, even. “Say, do you need some wood chopped or anything while I’m here?”
“Well, I wouldn’t ever say no to that,” he replied. “Round the back.”
“Righteo.” Sawyer slipped the envelope into his inside coat pocket and patted it so Mr Brown could see.
The woodpile was mostly gone and not too dry, but he chopped what he could and stacked it by the back door under the meagre awning. It actually felt pretty good to be doing something worthwhile despite his lack of practice and his inevitable blisters and torn palms. He felt good for helping, and Mr Brown seemed a nice old guy. With that done and no other reason to stay, he said his goodbyes and headed back to town.
Carpenter had been right. Speaking to Mr Brown had been very insightful, and he meant it when he said he’d go back once a week to see him.
The man was a hundred and two years old.
What the freaking hell?
Sawyer wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he had a sinking feeling it was true.
