and looked. Jeez, you ain’t so bright, are you?”
Henry laughed. “I am bright enough, I guess. And, yes, it is my guitar.”
“You play?”
“Nope.”
“Then what you got it for?”
“I use it to beat aggressive, unpleasant girls to death. Weighs ten pounds or more. Hefts like an ax.”
Evie smiled. “You wanna go get a beer?”
“What … all of a sudden we’re friends?”
“Depends how you behave.”
“I’ll take my stuff in, lock the truck, then we’ll go.”
“Do whatever. Your truck’ll be safe here. No one’s gonna steal anything. That’s one thing you can say about this fucked-up, shitheel town. Tied up tighter than a … well, whatever, you know?”
“Understood, but I’d prefer to see my gear inside.”
“You go do whatever you need to do, mister.”
Henry, still a little puzzled by this girl, carried his knapsack and guitar into the boardinghouse. Alice Honeycutt was fussing around the place.
“I wondered where you’d gone to,” she said.
“Just getting my things, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
“Well, you come on upstairs, and I’ll show you your room.”
It was a perfectly adequate room, a window overlooking the backyard, a narrow bed, a good deal wider than the bunk he’d used for the previous three years.
“Don’t know that your neighbors are gonna appreciate that there guitar, Mr. Quinn.”
Henry smiled. “Oh, I won’t make any noise, Mrs. Honeycutt. You need all sorts of gear to have that make any noise at all. Don’t you worry.”
“Well, as long as no one’s being disturbed, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I wanted to ask about payment,” Henry said.
Mrs. Honeycutt waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t deal with any of the business side of this, Mr. Quinn. You’ll need to work that out with Knox. Far as I know, you’re just a guest here tonight, a favor to Sheriff Riggs. My understanding is that you’ll be leaving in the morning anyway.”
“Not sure,” Henry replied, once again feeling that someone was telling him something without actually saying anything at all.
If Mrs. Honeycutt was surprised by Henry’s response, she didn’t show it. She simply explained where the bathroom was and that the shower ran a mite hot sometimes so to be careful.
Henry thanked her, said he would be out for a little while.
“Out?”
“Yes, I was just going to have a beer with Evie.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Honeycutt said. “I see.” Merely two words, but they somehow managed to communicate a tone of restrained disapproval.
“Is there a problem with that, Mrs. Honeycutt?” Henry asked, perhaps of a mind to challenge her.
“No, not at all, Mr. Quinn.” She smiled, albeit superficially. “It’s a free world,” she added, her tone suggesting that she believed it was anything but.
Evie was on the street when Henry returned. She was leaning against the pickup as if she were waiting for a ride.
“We need to drive?” Henry asked.
“Nope. We can walk.”
They walked for several minutes before Evie said a single word.
“Where you from?” she finally asked.
“San Angelo yesterday, before that Reeves County.”
“Where in Reeves County?”
“The prison.”
Evie laughed. “You are shittin’ me.”
“Wish I was,” Henry replied, and then wondered if he really did wish that he was bullshitting her. He’d not been out long enough to take stock of how he’d changed as a result of Reeves, the longer-term consequences of spending three years in a cell, but he knew that there had been changes. Beneath the skin, under the fingernails, somewhere in the mind and heart.
“Why were you in Reeves?”
“Shot someone.”
Evie stopped dead in her tracks. “You’re a murderer?”
“No, not a murderer. It was an accident. They were wounded. I did three years for that and the unlawful possession.”
“You are seriously shittin’ me, right?”
“I’m not, actually, no. Got out the day before yesterday. Went to see my ma in San Angelo, then drove
Henry laughed. “I am bright enough, I guess. And, yes, it is my guitar.”
“You play?”
“Nope.”
“Then what you got it for?”
“I use it to beat aggressive, unpleasant girls to death. Weighs ten pounds or more. Hefts like an ax.”
Evie smiled. “You wanna go get a beer?”
“What … all of a sudden we’re friends?”
“Depends how you behave.”
“I’ll take my stuff in, lock the truck, then we’ll go.”
“Do whatever. Your truck’ll be safe here. No one’s gonna steal anything. That’s one thing you can say about this fucked-up, shitheel town. Tied up tighter than a … well, whatever, you know?”
“Understood, but I’d prefer to see my gear inside.”
“You go do whatever you need to do, mister.”
Henry, still a little puzzled by this girl, carried his knapsack and guitar into the boardinghouse. Alice Honeycutt was fussing around the place.
“I wondered where you’d gone to,” she said.
“Just getting my things, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
“Well, you come on upstairs, and I’ll show you your room.”
It was a perfectly adequate room, a window overlooking the backyard, a narrow bed, a good deal wider than the bunk he’d used for the previous three years.
“Don’t know that your neighbors are gonna appreciate that there guitar, Mr. Quinn.”
Henry smiled. “Oh, I won’t make any noise, Mrs. Honeycutt. You need all sorts of gear to have that make any noise at all. Don’t you worry.”
“Well, as long as no one’s being disturbed, I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I wanted to ask about payment,” Henry said.
Mrs. Honeycutt waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, I don’t deal with any of the business side of this, Mr. Quinn. You’ll need to work that out with Knox. Far as I know, you’re just a guest here tonight, a favor to Sheriff Riggs. My understanding is that you’ll be leaving in the morning anyway.”
“Not sure,” Henry replied, once again feeling that someone was telling him something without actually saying anything at all.
If Mrs. Honeycutt was surprised by Henry’s response, she didn’t show it. She simply explained where the bathroom was and that the shower ran a mite hot sometimes so to be careful.
Henry thanked her, said he would be out for a little while.
“Out?”
“Yes, I was just going to have a beer with Evie.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Honeycutt said. “I see.” Merely two words, but they somehow managed to communicate a tone of restrained disapproval.
“Is there a problem with that, Mrs. Honeycutt?” Henry asked, perhaps of a mind to challenge her.
“No, not at all, Mr. Quinn.” She smiled, albeit superficially. “It’s a free world,” she added, her tone suggesting that she believed it was anything but.
Evie was on the street when Henry returned. She was leaning against the pickup as if she were waiting for a ride.
“We need to drive?” Henry asked.
“Nope. We can walk.”
They walked for several minutes before Evie said a single word.
“Where you from?” she finally asked.
“San Angelo yesterday, before that Reeves County.”
“Where in Reeves County?”
“The prison.”
Evie laughed. “You are shittin’ me.”
“Wish I was,” Henry replied, and then wondered if he really did wish that he was bullshitting her. He’d not been out long enough to take stock of how he’d changed as a result of Reeves, the longer-term consequences of spending three years in a cell, but he knew that there had been changes. Beneath the skin, under the fingernails, somewhere in the mind and heart.
“Why were you in Reeves?”
“Shot someone.”
Evie stopped dead in her tracks. “You’re a murderer?”
“No, not a murderer. It was an accident. They were wounded. I did three years for that and the unlawful possession.”
“You are seriously shittin’ me, right?”
“I’m not, actually, no. Got out the day before yesterday. Went to see my ma in San Angelo, then drove
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