father hid it there.
I was still sitting up in the patio chaise when I woke. The purple gray light of a dawn that was still an hour away glowed dusky and cold out past the horizon. My mouth was dry and my knees cramped. I rubbed my hand over my face and got to my feet, gathered a half-empty coffee cup, and placed it in the sink before making my way to Billy’s guest room. I lay down on the bed with my clothes on and fell into a hard and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER
10
T he sun was high and hot and reflecting off the white-shell parking lot of the Frontier Hotel like heat off a stove. I cracked the truck windows before I got out and knew it would make little difference. I’d still be climbing into a hotbox when I got back. Inside the bar it appeared that the same two card players were still at the same game. The bartender appeared to have added an earring to the other seven. I sat on one of the stools and let my eyes adjust to the dark and the woman pulled a cold beer from the cooler and walked down to set it in front of me.
“You’ve got you some ugly enemies, Mr. Freeman. An’ that’s your business,” were her opening words. No hello. No “Can I get cha?”
“But folks here don’t like you draggin’ ’em round behind you.”
“Is there a message in there somewhere?” I said, not reaching for the beer.
“There was a couple of city boys come in after you left last week, askin’ questions.”
“Yeah?” I was trying to get the rhythm of the conversational rules here.
“They wanted to know who you were talkin’ to and whether you were a regular.” She was wiping her hands with the gray bar rag, looking first at my face and then at the untouched beer bottle like I’d sinned by leaving it there alone.
“And you told them what?”
“To fuck off,” she said.
The cribbage boys sniggered down at the end, nodding their recollection of the conversation and their approval.
“Can you tell me what these two men looked like, other than ugly?”
“No, sir. Just that they didn’t belong out here. They were from the city.”
“Do you happen to know what they were driving?” I said, this time reaching into my shirt pocket and pulling out a fold of bills.
“A new, dark-colored Buick sedan when they come in. And a dark-colored Buick sedan with a busted out back window when they left,” she said, and the boys chuckled their approval again. Rag woman knew I understood the distinction. I had experienced the parking lot etiquette myself in the past. I stayed quiet and put a ten- dollar bill next to the bottle and lifted it to my lips.
“We don’t like visitors round here, Mr. Freeman. Y’all are here cause you got a friend,” she said, this time tipping her head to the back of the room. I turned and the adjustment of my eyes allowed me to see the shape of Nate Brown sitting alone at a table in the corner.
“Thank you,” I said to her, but she had already turned away with my money and was not bringing back change. I picked up the bottle and joined Brown. The old man stood when I approached and I shook his leathery hand.
“Nice girl, eh?” he said, nodding at the bar.
“A true charmer,” I said, pulling out a wooden chair. The table was a polished raw mahogany like the bar. The wood was native to the hardwood hammocks of the Glades, but the early loggers had recognized its beauty and sales potential, so little of it was left in the wild these days. A fat, cut-glass tumbler of whiskey sat before Brown, soaking up the yellow light from a nearby wall fixture and holding the glow. Another sat next to it, empty.
“How much you wanna poke round in this here look at Mr. Mayes, Freeman?” he said after a few quiet seconds.
“Depends on what the poking tells me,” I answered. “Why?”
I had forgotten Brown’s penchant for abruptness. He was not a man who had survived in a rough wilderness for eighty years by being subtle. He had also not survived by being stupid. He reached down beside his chair
I was still sitting up in the patio chaise when I woke. The purple gray light of a dawn that was still an hour away glowed dusky and cold out past the horizon. My mouth was dry and my knees cramped. I rubbed my hand over my face and got to my feet, gathered a half-empty coffee cup, and placed it in the sink before making my way to Billy’s guest room. I lay down on the bed with my clothes on and fell into a hard and dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER
10
T he sun was high and hot and reflecting off the white-shell parking lot of the Frontier Hotel like heat off a stove. I cracked the truck windows before I got out and knew it would make little difference. I’d still be climbing into a hotbox when I got back. Inside the bar it appeared that the same two card players were still at the same game. The bartender appeared to have added an earring to the other seven. I sat on one of the stools and let my eyes adjust to the dark and the woman pulled a cold beer from the cooler and walked down to set it in front of me.
“You’ve got you some ugly enemies, Mr. Freeman. An’ that’s your business,” were her opening words. No hello. No “Can I get cha?”
“But folks here don’t like you draggin’ ’em round behind you.”
“Is there a message in there somewhere?” I said, not reaching for the beer.
“There was a couple of city boys come in after you left last week, askin’ questions.”
“Yeah?” I was trying to get the rhythm of the conversational rules here.
“They wanted to know who you were talkin’ to and whether you were a regular.” She was wiping her hands with the gray bar rag, looking first at my face and then at the untouched beer bottle like I’d sinned by leaving it there alone.
“And you told them what?”
“To fuck off,” she said.
The cribbage boys sniggered down at the end, nodding their recollection of the conversation and their approval.
“Can you tell me what these two men looked like, other than ugly?”
“No, sir. Just that they didn’t belong out here. They were from the city.”
“Do you happen to know what they were driving?” I said, this time reaching into my shirt pocket and pulling out a fold of bills.
“A new, dark-colored Buick sedan when they come in. And a dark-colored Buick sedan with a busted out back window when they left,” she said, and the boys chuckled their approval again. Rag woman knew I understood the distinction. I had experienced the parking lot etiquette myself in the past. I stayed quiet and put a ten- dollar bill next to the bottle and lifted it to my lips.
“We don’t like visitors round here, Mr. Freeman. Y’all are here cause you got a friend,” she said, this time tipping her head to the back of the room. I turned and the adjustment of my eyes allowed me to see the shape of Nate Brown sitting alone at a table in the corner.
“Thank you,” I said to her, but she had already turned away with my money and was not bringing back change. I picked up the bottle and joined Brown. The old man stood when I approached and I shook his leathery hand.
“Nice girl, eh?” he said, nodding at the bar.
“A true charmer,” I said, pulling out a wooden chair. The table was a polished raw mahogany like the bar. The wood was native to the hardwood hammocks of the Glades, but the early loggers had recognized its beauty and sales potential, so little of it was left in the wild these days. A fat, cut-glass tumbler of whiskey sat before Brown, soaking up the yellow light from a nearby wall fixture and holding the glow. Another sat next to it, empty.
“How much you wanna poke round in this here look at Mr. Mayes, Freeman?” he said after a few quiet seconds.
“Depends on what the poking tells me,” I answered. “Why?”
I had forgotten Brown’s penchant for abruptness. He was not a man who had survived in a rough wilderness for eighty years by being subtle. He had also not survived by being stupid. He reached down beside his chair