appearance and lack of boyfriends, sheâd be more receptive than the other girls. He didnât take rejection by the flat-chested little hillbilly too well.
Lesterâs disdain for Natty intensified after her marriage to Buck. His long-standing hatred for Buck was rooted in the unmerciful beating that Buck had administered to the bigger boy one summer afternoon when they were in their early teens. It was one of many fights that Buck soon forgot about. But Lester carried the painful memory of being embarrassed in front of a large gang of cheering kids, as Buckâs superior boxing skills, strength, and innate instinct for cruelty turned Lester into a bloody, staggering hulk.
For years the memory and the desire for revenge smoldered, until one night Lester and another deputy got the call to respond to a domestic disturbance in Oakes Hollow. It was the day of the big announcement about the new power plant in Red Bone. The day the helicopters came. It wasnât clear from the call who was beating whom, but Wayne Lester knew who it would be as he opened the trunk of his patrol car to get his heavy lead-filled riot stick.
Drunk and out of control, Buck could be counted on to resist arrest, especially with a little provocation from Lester. The darkness provided sufficient cover for Lester to administer some solid shots to Buckâs rib cage and a few to his calves and kneecaps, but it wasnât until they got Buck to the jailâs underground garage that Lester went to work with a vengeance. Buck ended up with several broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a broken nose and jaw, and a fractured tibia. He was in the hospital two weeks longer than Natty was.
When Natty turned on the lamp in the darkening parlor, her attention was drawn to several framed photographs that decorated the sparsely furnished room. There was a pastel-tinted wedding picture of Birdie and Everett, looking young and scared. The largest picture on the wall was a grainy black-and-white photograph of a group of coal miners. Behind the men, a sign identified the mine as U.S. STEEL NUMBER 9. In the foreground of the picture, November 1954, Everett, 2nd row, #4 was written in white marker.
Natty knew all about Everett Merkely, even though he had died in 1985, five years after retiring from thirty-three years in the mines. Everett was Birdieâs singular interest in life while he was alive and her number-one topic of conversation afterward. Her husband had come out of the mines with emphysema and black lung. His last years with Birdie were not pleasant, as he slowly suffocated in his own fluids.
Natty thought about the photo that Birdie had chosen to hold as she died and tried to recall the few pictures she had of Buck and her together. None revealed anything like the love and pure joy experienced by the couple in Pensacola. She went back into Birdieâs bedroom and sat in a tall straight-backed wooden chair, awaiting Wayne Lester. Natty put her head back, folded her arms in front of her chest, and gave in to the exhaustion of a long day.
A booming voice startled her out of half sleep. âWell, if it ainât Natty De -nit- Witt, sleeping on the job!â
She looked up to see the hulking figure of Deputy Sheriff Wayne Lester filling the doorway of the bedroom. Six-four and closing in on three hundred pounds, Lester was an intimidating figure. Hooked onto his shirt pocket was a pair of aviator sunglasses. A pencil-thin black mustache adorned his pockmarked face. He wiggled a toothpick between his crooked teeth as he alternately eyed Natty and the figure on the bed.
Natty resisted the urge to come back with a Lester the Molester crack and decided to be civil so she could get out of the house and back home. âHey, Wayne, how you been?â
âIâm fine, Nat, just fine.â He was clearly encouraged by Nattyâs tone. âI see you running down the road real early sometimes, when Iâm going through Red Bone headed up
Lesterâs disdain for Natty intensified after her marriage to Buck. His long-standing hatred for Buck was rooted in the unmerciful beating that Buck had administered to the bigger boy one summer afternoon when they were in their early teens. It was one of many fights that Buck soon forgot about. But Lester carried the painful memory of being embarrassed in front of a large gang of cheering kids, as Buckâs superior boxing skills, strength, and innate instinct for cruelty turned Lester into a bloody, staggering hulk.
For years the memory and the desire for revenge smoldered, until one night Lester and another deputy got the call to respond to a domestic disturbance in Oakes Hollow. It was the day of the big announcement about the new power plant in Red Bone. The day the helicopters came. It wasnât clear from the call who was beating whom, but Wayne Lester knew who it would be as he opened the trunk of his patrol car to get his heavy lead-filled riot stick.
Drunk and out of control, Buck could be counted on to resist arrest, especially with a little provocation from Lester. The darkness provided sufficient cover for Lester to administer some solid shots to Buckâs rib cage and a few to his calves and kneecaps, but it wasnât until they got Buck to the jailâs underground garage that Lester went to work with a vengeance. Buck ended up with several broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a broken nose and jaw, and a fractured tibia. He was in the hospital two weeks longer than Natty was.
When Natty turned on the lamp in the darkening parlor, her attention was drawn to several framed photographs that decorated the sparsely furnished room. There was a pastel-tinted wedding picture of Birdie and Everett, looking young and scared. The largest picture on the wall was a grainy black-and-white photograph of a group of coal miners. Behind the men, a sign identified the mine as U.S. STEEL NUMBER 9. In the foreground of the picture, November 1954, Everett, 2nd row, #4 was written in white marker.
Natty knew all about Everett Merkely, even though he had died in 1985, five years after retiring from thirty-three years in the mines. Everett was Birdieâs singular interest in life while he was alive and her number-one topic of conversation afterward. Her husband had come out of the mines with emphysema and black lung. His last years with Birdie were not pleasant, as he slowly suffocated in his own fluids.
Natty thought about the photo that Birdie had chosen to hold as she died and tried to recall the few pictures she had of Buck and her together. None revealed anything like the love and pure joy experienced by the couple in Pensacola. She went back into Birdieâs bedroom and sat in a tall straight-backed wooden chair, awaiting Wayne Lester. Natty put her head back, folded her arms in front of her chest, and gave in to the exhaustion of a long day.
A booming voice startled her out of half sleep. âWell, if it ainât Natty De -nit- Witt, sleeping on the job!â
She looked up to see the hulking figure of Deputy Sheriff Wayne Lester filling the doorway of the bedroom. Six-four and closing in on three hundred pounds, Lester was an intimidating figure. Hooked onto his shirt pocket was a pair of aviator sunglasses. A pencil-thin black mustache adorned his pockmarked face. He wiggled a toothpick between his crooked teeth as he alternately eyed Natty and the figure on the bed.
Natty resisted the urge to come back with a Lester the Molester crack and decided to be civil so she could get out of the house and back home. âHey, Wayne, how you been?â
âIâm fine, Nat, just fine.â He was clearly encouraged by Nattyâs tone. âI see you running down the road real early sometimes, when Iâm going through Red Bone headed up
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