Read Online Paxton and the Lone Star by Kerry Newcomb - Free Book Online

things first. You’ll find out soon enough.”
    True folded his arms and blotted out Andrew and Joseph’s conversation. Bird and insect sounds, the smell of smoke and cooking pork. His father serious and, in retrospect, soft-spoken. Hogjaw Leakey, hard as granite and nimble as a mountain goat, plucking the knives from the pig, tossing True’s to him, and licking the grease from his before sheathing it. Leaving. The word had a sound and feel to it that matched the air of expectancy that, happy as he was to be at Solitary once again, prickled the hairs at the back of his neck and raised goose bumps on his arms. Turning, he looked back to the house where his mother stood framed in an upper story window. Leaving. She knew. She always knew. And was beginning, he could tell by the cast of her shoulders and the tilt of her head, to say goodbye.

Chapter III
    â€œThink of it! Deserts dry as bone and lonely as the grave. Swamps so deep no white man has ever seen their innards. Mile upon mile of low mountains covered with mighty cedars that tower to skies so clear and blue they must be the color of God’s eyes. Coastal marshes flat as a table and brimming with ducks and geese. Why, a man can bring down vittles for a week with a single load of buckshot. And plains. Plains, I say, vast as a mighty ocean, so broad and wide a man can travel across them ’til his guts quiver and still not reach the end. Not like these tame little meadows you got here,” Hogjaw rhapsodized. The firelight glowed in his eyes and the shadows played a danse macabre on his sagging face.
    â€œThe Llano Estacado, the Staked Plains in English, are still closed to the white man, but there are others. Plains that roll gently and rumble to the sound of Lord Buffalo. Buffalo, aye! Millions of ’em, and the best eatin’ a man might ever know in a lifetime. Buffalo hump is mother’s milk, and the tongue—” His eyes closed as he remembered “—is ambrosia.”
    In the darkness outside the net-enclosed gazebo where they sat, fireflies hovered suspended in space like tiny floating lanterns, and a multitude of insect songs filled the heavy, warm night air. Inside, around the table, Joseph pretended indifference and Andrew gnawed thoughtfully on a pork rib while True sat with closed eyes and pictured the awesome world Hogjaw had conjured. Thomas nudged Adriana, who leaned across his chest and refilled his clay mug with the cider he kept for special occasions. “All that is very good, Hogjaw,” she said, topping off his mug too. “But our home is here.”
    â€œI’m not talkin’ about you or Thomas,” the mountain man said, spitting out a chunk of gristle and reaching for his mug. “I’m talkin’ about these here boys and about raw beginnin’s for ’em. I’m talkin’ about land made holy by distance and a kingdom beggin’ for the souls hearty enough to wrest it from Mother Nature, the old whore—beggin’ your pardon.” He touched his fingers to the cap he wore to conceal the piece of pigskin sewn into his scalp.
    Adriana acknowledged his apology with a nod. “I know,” she said, a hint of sadness in her voice. “I understand. There have always been such places, and young men—and the young at heart—” she amended with a sweet smile, “have always flown to them.” She rose to awkward silence, leaned over and kissed Thomas on the cheek. “I will miss my sons,” she whispered, to everyone’s surprise, and hurriedly left.
    â€œIt’s harder on the womenfolk,” Hogjaw finally said, nodding sagely. “They feel the leavin’ worse than men.”
    The playing shadows made their faces look as serious as the conversation had become. “I wouldn’t count on that,” Thomas said.
    â€œIf Texas is so wonderful,” Joseph asked, “why’d you come back here?”
    â€œTo see