onto the backseat that was littered with paper wrappers from McDonald’s and Taco Bell. A few used packets of hot sauce lay forgotten, the remnants of red goop congealing on the tufted vinyl where half-a-dozen rock-hard French fries were scattered.
“Where’re the kids?” he asked, sliding onto the bench seat next to her.
“With their dads.”
“Didn’t think your exes were around much.”
“They’re not.” She yanked the wagon into gear. “I guess I just got lucky.” Smoke escaped from her nostrils as she gunned the accelerator.
In a spray of gravel, they were off.
Ross rolled down his window, felt the air rush through the interior and felt ten years of vengeance burn through his brain. He’d fed his hatred each and every day, vowing retribution, and now his time had come. Names whirled through his head, the names of those he’d get even with. Ruby Dee, Caleb Swaggart, Shelby Cole, the Judge, Nevada Smith. Especially Smith.
Cracking his knuckles, Ross stared through the dusty, bug-spattered windshield and studied the vast Texas countryside with new eyes.
The sumacs and prickly pear he’d once taken for granted seemed to display a new-found beauty. The rolling hills of dry range grass were scaled by sheep and goats he’d once ignored, and the sky—Christ, the sky went on forever. His throat threatened to close and he gritted his back teeth together. No reason to get maudlin and start blubbering like a baby. He was a free man and he’d never live again behind concrete walls topped with barbed wire and guarded by silent, humorless men wearing reflective glasses and toting rifles they itched to use. No, sir.
“Where to?” Mary Beth asked as they sped along the highway and crossed the slow-moving Guadalupe River.
“Bad Luck.”
Mary Beth slid him a look from the corner of her eye. “Don’t you think you should start over somewhere else?”
“Nope.”
“Where you goin’ to live?”
“In the folks’ place.”
She shook her head and her fingers gripped the wheel as if she planned to rip it from the steering column. “Hell, Ross, what’s there? Grandpa’s old cabin has just about fallen down. What’s left is rotten and filled with termites.”
“What about the trailer?”
She sighed. “The single-wide’s still there, and I kicked out the renters, like you asked, but it’s a pigsty, believe me.”
“Couldn’t be any worse than where I been.” But Ross glanced into the backseat. His sister’s standards on cleanliness weren’t all that high. In fact, if what they said about cleanliness and godliness were true, it seemed Mary Beth might not have much of a chance of gettin’ through the Pearly Gates when the Lord called her home. Not that Ross cared much. “Gotta start somewhere,” he said as she squashed her smoke in an ashtray already overflowing with lipstick-stained cigarette butts.
“I guess. But there’s a lot of bad blood back there.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and pretended that she wasn’t watching for a reaction. “Shelby Cole’s back in town.”
Ross couldn’t swallow the smile of satisfaction that crept from one side of his mouth to the other. Shelby? In Bad Luck? Well, well, things were looking up. “Is that right? Go figure.”
“Don’t suppose you had anything to do with it.”
“You forget where I’ve been.”
“Well, you’d best stay away from her,” she warned, then twisted on the knob of the radio, increasing the volume as a song he’d never heard before, some down-and-out country-and-western lament by a woman with a clear voice, filled the interior. Mary Beth sang along with the lyrics and she wasn’t all that bad—a little flat maybe, but Ross didn’t care.
But then he didn’t care about much. Except getting even.
Leaning back in the seat, Ross lapsed into silence as they flew down the highway, letting memories of faces from the past—especially Shelby Cole’s fresh face—surface. Blue, wide-eyed innocence, pert
“Where’re the kids?” he asked, sliding onto the bench seat next to her.
“With their dads.”
“Didn’t think your exes were around much.”
“They’re not.” She yanked the wagon into gear. “I guess I just got lucky.” Smoke escaped from her nostrils as she gunned the accelerator.
In a spray of gravel, they were off.
Ross rolled down his window, felt the air rush through the interior and felt ten years of vengeance burn through his brain. He’d fed his hatred each and every day, vowing retribution, and now his time had come. Names whirled through his head, the names of those he’d get even with. Ruby Dee, Caleb Swaggart, Shelby Cole, the Judge, Nevada Smith. Especially Smith.
Cracking his knuckles, Ross stared through the dusty, bug-spattered windshield and studied the vast Texas countryside with new eyes.
The sumacs and prickly pear he’d once taken for granted seemed to display a new-found beauty. The rolling hills of dry range grass were scaled by sheep and goats he’d once ignored, and the sky—Christ, the sky went on forever. His throat threatened to close and he gritted his back teeth together. No reason to get maudlin and start blubbering like a baby. He was a free man and he’d never live again behind concrete walls topped with barbed wire and guarded by silent, humorless men wearing reflective glasses and toting rifles they itched to use. No, sir.
“Where to?” Mary Beth asked as they sped along the highway and crossed the slow-moving Guadalupe River.
“Bad Luck.”
Mary Beth slid him a look from the corner of her eye. “Don’t you think you should start over somewhere else?”
“Nope.”
“Where you goin’ to live?”
“In the folks’ place.”
She shook her head and her fingers gripped the wheel as if she planned to rip it from the steering column. “Hell, Ross, what’s there? Grandpa’s old cabin has just about fallen down. What’s left is rotten and filled with termites.”
“What about the trailer?”
She sighed. “The single-wide’s still there, and I kicked out the renters, like you asked, but it’s a pigsty, believe me.”
“Couldn’t be any worse than where I been.” But Ross glanced into the backseat. His sister’s standards on cleanliness weren’t all that high. In fact, if what they said about cleanliness and godliness were true, it seemed Mary Beth might not have much of a chance of gettin’ through the Pearly Gates when the Lord called her home. Not that Ross cared much. “Gotta start somewhere,” he said as she squashed her smoke in an ashtray already overflowing with lipstick-stained cigarette butts.
“I guess. But there’s a lot of bad blood back there.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and pretended that she wasn’t watching for a reaction. “Shelby Cole’s back in town.”
Ross couldn’t swallow the smile of satisfaction that crept from one side of his mouth to the other. Shelby? In Bad Luck? Well, well, things were looking up. “Is that right? Go figure.”
“Don’t suppose you had anything to do with it.”
“You forget where I’ve been.”
“Well, you’d best stay away from her,” she warned, then twisted on the knob of the radio, increasing the volume as a song he’d never heard before, some down-and-out country-and-western lament by a woman with a clear voice, filled the interior. Mary Beth sang along with the lyrics and she wasn’t all that bad—a little flat maybe, but Ross didn’t care.
But then he didn’t care about much. Except getting even.
Leaning back in the seat, Ross lapsed into silence as they flew down the highway, letting memories of faces from the past—especially Shelby Cole’s fresh face—surface. Blue, wide-eyed innocence, pert
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