“Thank you,” I said, grateful for his honesty.
I gave her the cup, and she drank slow. The water spilled out as I swished the cloth into the bucket and wrung it out. As I touched it to her face, she recoiled, then snapped to attention. “I’ll tend to it…ma’am.” She snatched it from me and pressed it across her brow and neck.
“If you could let her cool off inside, sir. Just for a moment,” I pleaded.
Mrs. Claxton looked up and shot me a warning.
Sonny tucked his thumbs into his overalls and stared off, rocking on the heels of his boots. He flattened his lips, then glanced at Mrs. Claxton and back to the road again.
“You seem like nice enough city folks. I hope your help feels better, ma’am. Wouldn’t want ya’ll to be stuck here so far from home.”
Something in the man’s weathered face showed a gentleness and a sincerity, but I suddenly got the allovers crawling around my neck when I followed his eyes to the diner’s window. Hisbearded friend stared out at us, something cold and dangerous brewing in his eyes.
He pulled up ol’ hauntings, reminded me of the preacher man who’d tried to drown those with odd markings. Me. His attack still fresh like yesterday and still after all these years.The Devil’s beastly slittail, he’d called me before trying to force me off the trail while I was delivering books to my patrons. He’d beat on my sweet book mule and chased her off into the woodlands then lurched at me. I’d struggled against his muscled grip as the preacher proclaimed he’d put hishot-white fire inside me to burn out my blue demons.
My beloved Junia had screamed out and thundered back toward us, kicking up the forest’s black earth and rot. Then the mule chased him through the woods with her big chomping teeth and maddening cries. When he came stalking again, she trampled him, rid me of the demon, and broke the devil man’s ticker.
My hands shook as I hovered over Mrs. Claxton, the old disgrace lingering and still gnawing at me.
The diner’s bell jingled. Curious, the waitress poked her head out, her face curdling as she looked on. The bearded man brushed past her and spat our way as he headed toward his truck.
The air suddenly felt dangerous, pricked, like an ugly evil had rooted in this town long before the first cornerstone had been laid.
Sonny took off his ball cap and wiped his brow. “Soon as you’re rested, ya best move along. This ol’ town can get a mite rowdy round these parts after dark. Hunters hunting them hushpuppies and all.” His eyes rested on Mrs. Claxton. “Wouldn’t want to see anything happen to you nice ladies.”
Water dribbled down Mrs. Claxton’s chin as she pulled the cup slowly away from her lips and looked up at him.
Hushpuppies.The word jelled as I realized I’d read it somewhere in an article or book. The fried cornmeal dumpling that escaping slaves tossed to distract and lead tracking dogs off theirtrail.
Mrs. Claxton flinched and said hoarsely, “Thank you, sir, for your generous hospitality. We’ll be leaving now.” She took another greedy gulp and wiped her face, flailing as she stood up.
Sonny reached out to steady her at the same time I did.
“Obliged. I’ll see to her, sir.”
“I’m feeling better now, ma’am,” she uttered low as she limped toward the automobile.
“Are you sure you can drive?” I settled her behind the steering wheel and glanced at all the knobs and dials. “I’ve never learned but I can try.”
“That would be just as dangerous as staying.” She took a couple of breaths and gripped the wheel. “Hurry and get into the back seat.”
“Here, take a sip of your Coke.” I passed it to her, and she dug out ice and rubbed it across her face and neck before swallowing several big gulps of the sugary drink. The ol’ woman exhaled loudly, then vigorously shook her head to collect herself.
When she pulled out onto the road, the bearded man in the truck followed while Sonny knocked his boot on the curb, teeth tucked tight in a grimace.
“Mrs. Claxton, that other man’s behind us. He’s a’huntin’.”
“Shh, let me concentrate.” She kept darting her bulging eyes to the rearview mirror.
Forty-Six
The man tailed us for a mile down the road until Mrs. Claxton slowed, reached out the window, her arm turned upward to signal a turn. When she stopped at the crossroad, he revved the motor, then backed up and squealed his tires, speeding toward us.
“Mrs. Claxton, he’s coming for us fast!”
Terrified, I watched as his growling truck flew closer, chewing through the road. Then he slammed on the brakes, barely missing the tail of our vehicle.
The librarian cried out.
