their filthy RV would be enough to sendHannah to foster care. These occasions were times when Hannah’s love of reading came in handy. It kept her quiet for one thing, but, more than that, the fairy tales and folk yarns Hannah so loved provided easy bait for her imagination.
“You know they’ll take you away if they find you,” Mercy would tell her. “Exactly like the witch in one of those stories of yours. And just because a man wears a star, that doesn’t mean he’s any good. You have to look at what’s underneath, and to do that you have to look without being seen. Do you understand?” And Hannah always nodded and said she did.
Mercy sure hoped so now. She patted Hazel’s shoulder one last time. “I’ll bring you some things from your house, if you want.”
Hazel sniffled. “That would do kindly.” Mercy turned away. Such a small thing in the face of such a great wrong, but it was all she had to give.
I would do anything
, she thought, stepping into the glare of the hospital hallway,
to put things right
.
If she were smart, she’d head home, find Hannah, fire up the RV, and get the hell out of Titan Falls. Maybe Zeke was already in custody. Or, likelier, the more complicated scenario by far, he’d taken off, hell-bound not to return to jail. Either way, Zeke had made this mess, and he could damn well lie in it. It was none of Mercy’s doing.
Except family didn’t work like that when you’d spent your life rattling through the backwoods, the hard woods. In that geography what was past and what was present were one and the same. Crime and punishment danced ever close on the heels of brotherly love, and Mercy, so help her, was tied fist to palm to her older brother and to Hannah whether she liked it or not. It was the very last vow she’d made to Arlene, and she’d rather be tarred a black sinner than go back on that word now.
Would. Should. Could. In the long run, those words led to no end of trouble if you chose to use them.
Mercy wasn’t going anywhere.
W hen Mercy finally parked Hazel’s car on the edge of Devil’s Slide Road and crept down the skinny path to the clearing where the camper was parked, she saw that Zeke’s truck was indeed missing. A kerosene lantern flickered in the RV’s window, elongating Hannah’s delicate silhouette.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Mercy growled, banging into the sardine-can space, stomping what snow she could off her wet boots. She moved the lantern to a corner. “The window’s lit up like a damn Christmas tree.”
Hannah hustled over with a ratty towel for Mercy to squeeze the frost out of her hair with. Her eyes were too big in her face, and her hands were shaking a little. “It’s okay. All the lawmen are gone now. They came looking for Zeke, but he took off when he heard them coming, and I hid in the trees and kept away, just like you taught me to.”
Mercy’s heart skipped a beat. “Zeke came back here?” It flat out didn’t make any sense. If he’d gone and knocked Fergus’s bus into the ravine, wouldn’t he have tried to get as far away from it as he could, even if he’d had to leave his truck? But then who could ever explain what Zeke did? “Was he sober?”
“His nose was bleeding, and he was holding one of his shoulders crooked, but he didn’t stink like drink.”
“What happened?”
Hannah’s teeth were still chattering a little. “I don’t know. I overheard the police talking about some bones they found and a school bus falling down into the ravine, but Zeke didn’t saynothing about any of that when he came in. He was just cussing up a blue streak because he said he’d smashed the truck and now what were we going to do for wheels?”
“Hannah, look at me. Are you sure that’s everything that happened? He didn’t say anything about the bus?” Mercy knelt down and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders.
“I’m sure.”
Mercy sat back on her heels. The one thing her brother had never
“You know they’ll take you away if they find you,” Mercy would tell her. “Exactly like the witch in one of those stories of yours. And just because a man wears a star, that doesn’t mean he’s any good. You have to look at what’s underneath, and to do that you have to look without being seen. Do you understand?” And Hannah always nodded and said she did.
Mercy sure hoped so now. She patted Hazel’s shoulder one last time. “I’ll bring you some things from your house, if you want.”
Hazel sniffled. “That would do kindly.” Mercy turned away. Such a small thing in the face of such a great wrong, but it was all she had to give.
I would do anything
, she thought, stepping into the glare of the hospital hallway,
to put things right
.
If she were smart, she’d head home, find Hannah, fire up the RV, and get the hell out of Titan Falls. Maybe Zeke was already in custody. Or, likelier, the more complicated scenario by far, he’d taken off, hell-bound not to return to jail. Either way, Zeke had made this mess, and he could damn well lie in it. It was none of Mercy’s doing.
Except family didn’t work like that when you’d spent your life rattling through the backwoods, the hard woods. In that geography what was past and what was present were one and the same. Crime and punishment danced ever close on the heels of brotherly love, and Mercy, so help her, was tied fist to palm to her older brother and to Hannah whether she liked it or not. It was the very last vow she’d made to Arlene, and she’d rather be tarred a black sinner than go back on that word now.
Would. Should. Could. In the long run, those words led to no end of trouble if you chose to use them.
Mercy wasn’t going anywhere.
W hen Mercy finally parked Hazel’s car on the edge of Devil’s Slide Road and crept down the skinny path to the clearing where the camper was parked, she saw that Zeke’s truck was indeed missing. A kerosene lantern flickered in the RV’s window, elongating Hannah’s delicate silhouette.
“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” Mercy growled, banging into the sardine-can space, stomping what snow she could off her wet boots. She moved the lantern to a corner. “The window’s lit up like a damn Christmas tree.”
Hannah hustled over with a ratty towel for Mercy to squeeze the frost out of her hair with. Her eyes were too big in her face, and her hands were shaking a little. “It’s okay. All the lawmen are gone now. They came looking for Zeke, but he took off when he heard them coming, and I hid in the trees and kept away, just like you taught me to.”
Mercy’s heart skipped a beat. “Zeke came back here?” It flat out didn’t make any sense. If he’d gone and knocked Fergus’s bus into the ravine, wouldn’t he have tried to get as far away from it as he could, even if he’d had to leave his truck? But then who could ever explain what Zeke did? “Was he sober?”
“His nose was bleeding, and he was holding one of his shoulders crooked, but he didn’t stink like drink.”
“What happened?”
Hannah’s teeth were still chattering a little. “I don’t know. I overheard the police talking about some bones they found and a school bus falling down into the ravine, but Zeke didn’t saynothing about any of that when he came in. He was just cussing up a blue streak because he said he’d smashed the truck and now what were we going to do for wheels?”
“Hannah, look at me. Are you sure that’s everything that happened? He didn’t say anything about the bus?” Mercy knelt down and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders.
“I’m sure.”
Mercy sat back on her heels. The one thing her brother had never
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