Dark River Road (23 page)

His bare feet made no sound on the gravel road, but rocks dug into his skin so he stayed on the grassy verge as much as possible. It occurred to him that maybe Tansy and Leon were in that house. It wouldn’t surprise him that much. She had this look about her now, like she knew what was up, but they’d never talked about it. Not after that night in their secret cave when he’d backed off from her and she’d run out crying. He didn’t know why he’d done that except that it just hadn’t seemed right. It was
Tansy
. She was too important to risk ruining everything.

So he didn’t know what he’d see when he crept up close to the house hidden behind a wall of bushes, and hoped if it was Tansy that Leon really loved her enough to do her right. He seemed to be crazy enough about her, but you never knew.

It wasn’t Leon, and it wasn’t Tansy. When he rubbed grime off the cracked window pane that looked into the room where the light was, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. And what he was hearing.

Reverend Hale was naked as a jaybird on top of a rickety iron bed, pumping his willy into a woman that sure wasn’t Mrs. Reverend Hale. This woman wasn’t fat but skinny, her bare legs wrapped so tight around the good reverend that it looked like she was trying to squeeze him to death. And with every stroke, Reverend Hale hollered out words from a Bible verse.

“Dearly beloved, I beseech you, as strangers and pilgrims, abstain from fleshly lusts, which war against the soul. First Peter two eleven
 . . .
”

Another stroke that made the woman squirm and the reverend get really red in the face. He gasped a few times, opened his eyes really wide and looked up at the dusty ceiling as if for holy guidance and pumped even harder. The bedsprings squeaked almost as loud as the woman.

“For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world
 . . .
” He pumped harder. “First John two sixteen.”

Chantry knew he should stop watching but he couldn’t. He held onto the cracked, peeling paint of the window sill, fascinated and repelled at the same time.

“And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof, but he that doeth the will of God abideth forever
 . . .
” All the skin seemed pulled back so tight on the reverend’s face it made his ax blade of a nose look sharp as a crow’s beak. This time he didn’t give the chapter and verse but hollered out to God to help him, that he was coming. He sure looked like he was about to take off for heaven. Then he got real still and the woman under him turned her face toward the window so that Chantry could see her. Her eyes were shut tight, but he recognized her. It was Mrs. Tilly, the choir director of New Cane Creek Baptist Church. She had a husband and two little kids, and always got them involved in every church activity there was. Except this one, he was pretty sure of that.

Chantry backed away from the window and went home. He’d seen enough.

Rainey was standing out on the back steps when he came around the corner, and Chantry came to an abrupt halt. His stomach dropped.

“Where the hell you been, boy? Out screwin’ that li’l colored gal again?”

He hated it when Rainey said things like that. It always made his mouth go flat and his muscles tighten up with the effort to keep from hitting him. He just stood there without saying anything, waiting to see what Rainey intended to do.

Rainey flipped his lit cigarette into the dirt and came down the three steps into the yard between the house and the garage. Light from the kitchen made a bright patch that stretched nearly to the dog pen.

“Answer me, dammit. Where the hell you been?”

“It’s hot. I came outside to get cool.”

“Yeah, I just bet you did.” Rainey grabbed him by the hair and dragged him into the light. It felt like he was going to pull it out by the roots, and Chantry put up an arm to knock his hand away.

That was a mistake.

Rainey let out a roar like an enraged bull and backhanded him across the face, sending him up hard against the side of the garage. Chantry grabbed hold of the wire dog pen to keep from going down while Rainey hollered that no snot-nosed little bastard was going to get away with raising a hand to him.

“My own boys never did it, an’ I damn sure ain’t gonna let you.” His hands went to his belt buckle, and Chantry thought about taking off. But there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run that he wouldn’t have to come back sooner or later, and it sure wouldn’t make Rainey any more sweet-tempered.

When Rainey reached out to grab him by the arm, his belt doubled over and drawn back in his other hand, two things happened at once: Mama came out the back door and Shadow cleared the top of the pen, teeth bared and snarling.

Seventy pounds of pissed-off Catahoula was enough to scare the bejesus out of Rainey. He let out a yelp and took three steps backward, close enough that Mama jerked the belt from his hand.

“Stop that this instant, Rainey Lassiter. Chantry, control your dog.”

Rainey rounded on her, eyes going thin. “
His
dog? That ain’t his dog. That’s my dog. I own him, and I ain’t gonna tolerate no vicious dog ‘round here, by God.”

“There will be a better time to discuss the semantics involved in rearing dogs and children. Brute force is unacceptable at any time. Is that understood?”

Mama sounded so cool and calm, but there was a tight look around her eyes and mouth that betrayed her anger. Even Rainey must have seen it. He might be stupid enough to argue with Mama about a lot of stuff, but he was smart enough to know when he’d crossed the line. That line was always there when it came to Chantry and Mikey.

If Chantry hadn’t been so scared Rainey would do something with Shadow, he might have been glad to see Mama back Rainey down. But all he could think was that it was dangerous to get him pissed off when it came to the dog.

He had a tight hold on Shadow’s collar, but the dog was still all tense and staring hard at Rainey like he wanted to get at him, lips curled back from his teeth so they shone white in the light coming from the kitchen. He’d stopped growling, but he hadn’t stopped watching. Angry fur stood up stiff and straight along his spine, too.

“Put up the dog, Chantry,” Mama said, “and go back to bed. We have to get up early for church in the morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said even though he had no intention of going off to church and leaving Rainey here alone with Shadow. Besides, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to look at Reverend Hale again without remembering him buck naked and stuffing the choir director.

The next day when he went to work he took Shadow with him. He didn’t tell Doc why, just put him in the exercise area out back of the long metal building to let him run around. Doc never said anything. He wondered what he’d say if he took to bringing the dog with him every day until it’d be safe to bring up the subject with Rainey of paying for him. Maybe after a couple of days Rainey’d cool down enough to listen.

Trials were next week, and he still didn’t have a ride. He thought about asking Dempsey to take him, worried if he’d be able to do it. If nothing else, he’d even thought about asking Tansy to give him a ride to Clarksdale. He’d pay for her gas, and she might like going with him and watching the dogs work. Sometimes he saw her watching when he took Shadow out in the fields to run. Yeah, she might do it. He’d ask her tomorrow, if he could catch her before she left for work. She got home too late at night these days to wait up on her.

Tuesday morning he got to go back to sleep since Mama was taking Mikey for his regular checkup at the doctor’s. She hoped the doctor would say he could cut down on his medication now. He was getting bigger and stronger every day. Rainey was supposed to be gone with the truck all morning, and Chantry intended to wake up and be gone by the time he got back. Doc went out on calls and didn’t need him at the clinic until lunchtime.

When he woke up, the clock on the dresser across the room said ten-sixteen. He couldn’t believe he’d slept that late. It was an unfamiliar luxury. He lay there in the bed looking up at the ceiling and listening to the silence. No TV. No Rainey. Only the whirr of the box fan.

After a couple of minutes, he got up and dressed, then went out into the kitchen. Rainey sat at the table. Chantry stopped short in the doorway, looking at him. He had a cup of coffee in one hand, his other hand folded over something on the table. He looked back at Chantry over the rim of his cup. There was something sly and malicious about the way he watched him.

A cold chill went down Chantry’s back and he moved to the edge of the table. “Thought you had something to do this morning.”

“Already did it.”

He didn’t know how he knew, but it hit him like a two by four between the eyes. Still, he had to see for himself, and walked to the back door and looked out toward the dog pen. It was empty, the gate left open.

“What’d you do, Rainey?” He spun around. “What the hell did you do?”

“Got rid of that damn dog, that’s what. Told you I would.”

“Goddam you, Rainey Lassiter.” He said it so low he thought Rainey hadn’t heard him but he had, because he turned around in his chair to look at him real careful-like. Chantry took a step forward and saw Rainey tense. “What did you do with him? What did you do with my dog?”

Nausea rose up thick in his throat, and he just knew if Rainey said he’d sold him for bait he’d have to kill him. He’d never seriously thought about killing anyone before, but now he felt it so strong it was hard to keep his hands to himself.

“Ain’t yore dog,” Rainey said, watching him close. “I had the papers on him. Sold him.”

Chantry sucked in a deep breath. “To who?”

“That’s for me to know.”

“We had a deal, you sorry sonuvabitch. Did you get anywhere close to two thousand for him? Huh?”

“Damn dog ain’t worth near that and you know it. Won’t never be.”

“Get him back.”

Rainey laughed, a mean sound. “Hell no.” He lifted his hand and Chantry saw the wad of hundred dollar bills on the table. “Got six hundred for that mangy mutt.”

Six hundred dollars. He’d sold him for six hundred dollars while Chantry had worked for a year to come up with the two thousand he’d recklessly said Shadow would be worth. He’d hung himself on his own lie.

“I’ll give you two thousand for him,” he said, and Rainey laughed again, this time with real amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Where you think you’ll come up with that kind of money, boy? Besides. I done sold him. He’s gone and I got Ledbetter’s money so don’t be thinkin’ you can do anything about it.”

Dale Ledbetter. Chantry’s mind raced. He’d give him back his money and make a new deal for Shadow. Ledbetter was a businessman. He’d see the sense in a quick profit for a dog that hadn’t ever been in a trial.

He turned his back on Rainey and went outside to the dog pen. The money was where he’d left it, eighteen hundred and fifty dollars stuffed inside a blue tin box with Hershey’s Kisses painted on the outside of it. He took it out and shoved it in his pocket, and when he came out of the pen Rainey stood at the open gate.

“You conniving little shit. Where the hell did you get that wad of money?”