Dark River Road (24 page)

“Not sitting on my ass like you. I earned it.”

“You got a smart mouth on you, boy. Always have. Well, yore mama ain’t here to take up for you right now. Hand over that money and I won’t beat the shit outa you.”

“Don’t even try or I’ll kill you.”

He couldn’t believe he’d said it, but he had and he meant it. If Rainey so much as lifted a hand to him he’d do his best to take him apart. Right now he felt like he could beat him down without even working up a sweat. Hot rage simmered, made his heart hammer so loud he could barely hear Rainey over it.

“You been askin’ for this, boy.”

When Rainey drew back his fist, Chantry hit him first, a hard pop to the nose that snapped his head back and sent blood gushing. He felt it splatter on his tee shirt but he didn’t pause. He hit him again, two quick blows to the face, the last on his jaw. Rainey went down without a sound. It was a shock.

Chantry stood looking at him a minute, surprised and oddly disappointed. He’d wanted him to fight back, had wanted to keep hitting him until the anger eased. This had been too easy. Who’d have thought ole Rainey would have a glass jaw?

Bending down, Chantry dug in Rainey’s pocket and took out his truck keys. While he didn’t have a driver’s license, Dempsey had taught him to drive most anything. The old Dodge wouldn’t be a problem.

When he got to Dale Ledbetter’s farm, he saw his truck pulled up in front of a long line of kennels. Each kennel had a fenced in run, the dog houses those big plastic domes that looked like a turtle’s back. He got out of Rainey’s truck and crossed to where Ledbetter stood talking to Mr. Crenshaw and another man. Ledbetter turned around when Crenshaw said something to him, watching Chantry approach.

“Mr. Ledbetter,” he said before anyone could speak, “there’s been a mistake made. You just bought a dog that wasn’t for sale.”

“That right?” Mr. Ledbetter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “How do you figure that?”

He’d thought about what he wanted to say all the way out here, but now he couldn’t remember a single word of what he’d intended to be a rational explanation. Something got all in the way, a tight feeling like desperation.

“That’s my dog. He’s been mine since I pulled him out of his mama. Rainey just had the papers on him. I know you and Rainey made a deal. I’ll give you back your money, all of it, and pay however much more you think’s fair. I just want the dog back.”

Mr. Ledbetter looked at him like he was thinking about it, studying him so long Chantry thought he wasn’t going to answer at all. Then he said, “How’d you get that blood on you, son?”

Rainey’s blood. Chantry didn’t answer.

After a minute, Mr. Ledbetter turned to the two men standing there and asked them to wait on him up at the house. They left, and Chantry stood there with a year’s worth of money heavy in his pocket and his eyes on Ledbetter.

“Son,” he began in a tone that Chantry didn’t want to hear, “I like that dog. He’s got great potential. His bloodline is good but not the best. Still, he’s got something that might take him to the top of his game. It needs the right kind of work to get him there.”

“He’s doing fine as it is.”

“Yes, he’s doing fine. But he can do great. He can be the best. If I sell you back this dog, how long do you think it’ll be before Rainey Lassiter sells him again? You and I both know that’s likely to happen.”

Something cold and tight knotted up his stomach. He shook his head. “No. Not if I have the papers.”

Ledbetter smiled. “Son, he never even thought of giving me the papers until I asked for them. Next time he needs money, that dog’ll be gone and you know it. You won’t be able to stop him.”

It was true and he didn’t have an argument against it. Something hot and wet burned the back of his eyes so that he had to blink and look away. He could hardly breathe for the tightness in his chest, like a vise squeezing him so hard his ribs should have snapped. Minutes went past. Ledbetter cleared his throat.

“Look, son, I can see you love that dog. You want what’s right for him, don’t you? I’ve got two thousand acres here for him to hunt, plenty of time to train him. He’ll be the best. I can always pick a winner. If I let you take him back home with you, even if Rainey didn’t sell him he’d be cooped up in that dirt pen all day. That’s no life for a dog like this. Hell, for any dog. And you can come by and see him whenever you want.”

“No.” He didn’t know how he got that word out, but it broke the dam so that he could say what had to be said. “Just
 . . .
let me tell him goodbye.”

Ledbetter nodded. He looked at him for a moment like he wanted to say something else, then just took him to one of the kennels. Shadow lay on a thick rubber mat outside the dog house. Some kind of spray stuff that smelled like insecticide squirted out of a plastic box attached to the top of the wire fence. On another wall, a stainless steel bucket held water that circulated from a tank to keep it fresh and cool. It all looked clean and expensive.

Shadow leaped up when he saw Chantry, and ran in a tight circle, eyes gleaming up at him like he wanted to play. He went inside the gate, heard Ledbetter close it behind him and leave. Then he knelt down and Shadow came to put his head on his shoulder. He sat there for what seemed like only a second, stroking Shadow without saying much, just being with him. He hurt so bad inside, it was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life.

When he heard Ledbetter coming back he pressed his face against the dog’s soft coat and said, “I love you enough.” It was the same thing Mama always said when she had to do something difficult, something she didn’t want to do but knew had to be done to make things right. She’d said it to Mikey right before his surgery. Now he said it to Shadow.

He didn’t look back even when Shadow started barking, just nodded at Mr. Ledbetter and crossed the driveway to get in Rainey’s old truck.

It was a good fifteen miles back to Sugarditch from the Ledbetter place. Chantry didn’t see much, just drove without paying attention to anything but keeping the truck in the right lane. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried, but now he couldn’t stop. He didn’t cry out loud, just couldn’t get the tears to stop running down his face. He felt like a fool.

Maybe it was because his eyes were so wet he couldn’t see too well, but when he finally noticed the flashing lights behind him, the police cruiser had his siren on, too. He glanced down at the speedometer, but he wasn’t speeding. Damn. He had no license. There’d be trouble if he got a ticket. He started to slow down and pull over to the side of the road.

Then he thought, What the hell do I care? How much more trouble can there be?

It was crazy and reckless and stupid, but all of a sudden he just didn’t care. He lowered his foot on the accelerator and the old truck jumped forward. He picked up speed going down a hill and hit the bottom doing nearly eighty. He’d never thought Rainey’s old truck would do much over fifty, but now the motor whined into gear and took off. It gave him a rush that overrode any caution. When he looked in the rearview mirror again, there were two county police cars behind him, lights flashing and sirens screaming. He floored it.

Those old country roads wound up and down through the delta like a cottonmouth snake, dark gray and slithering across land that was mostly flat except for near the river bottoms. Kudzu blanketed trees, light poles, and electric wires. He zigzagged down the roads and around men on slow-moving farm machinery, taking chances he would never have taken any other time. It didn’t matter. Nothing much mattered right now. Then he zigged when he should have zagged and the truck plowed into a bank of kudzu. Steam rose from under the hood, and he had the wind knocked out of him.

By the time he caught his breath, the driver’s door got yanked open and three cops had him out of the truck and on the ground, yelling at him that he was under arrest and not to move.

For some reason, that made him want to fight. He kicked one of them on the shinbone and heard him yelp, then got slammed upside the head. His arms were jerked back behind him and up almost to his shoulder blades so that it felt like they were going to come loose from the sockets. He didn’t say a word, just gritted his teeth as they cuffed him and hauled him to his feet. Then he head-butted the nearest cop, catching him in the face. One of the cops punched him in the belly with his nightstick. He doubled over, retching. Then he had the vague thought that if he had to hurt, he could handle this kind of pain better than the other. He kicked the other cop.

After that, it was all a blur.

Chantry sat at a bare table
in a room empty of anything but some chairs and one of those two-way mirrors. The Quinton County jail was a pretty new facility, with plenty of room for adult lawbreakers, but the juvenile section was limited. They’d put him in here for some reason, but still had him cuffed to the back of the chair. He hurt all over. It was easier to focus on the pain than it was his future. They said he was going to be charged for driving without a license, stealing a car, resisting arrest, and three counts of assaulting an officer. It didn’t look good.

So far, he hadn’t even gotten a phone call. He didn’t want to call Mama anyway. She’d be so upset with him, and he had no explanation. Not a rational one. He still didn’t know why he’d run. He’d known he wouldn’t get away. Even if Rainey told the police that he hadn’t stolen the truck, which he doubted he’d do, resisting arrest and assaulting an officer was enough to keep him in jail for a while. It’d been a stupid thing to do, but he couldn’t undo it now.

He tried to get comfortable, but in the straight-backed metal and plastic chair, it was near impossible. His wrists hurt where the cuffs pinched, and with his arms pulled behind him it put a strain on his shoulders. There was more blood on his tee shirt than just Rainey’s, and he thought some of it might be his own. He really couldn’t remember anything but some pissed-off police.

When the door opened he looked up, expecting to see one of the cops coming back to ask more questions. Instead, Mama and Rainey stepped inside. He sat up as straight as he could, but it was too hard to look Mama in the face. He stared down at the floor until Rainey said he looked like hell; then he shot him a look from the corners of his eyes. He didn’t look much better. He had a splint over his nose and a cut on his cheek, but other than that, he looked strangely satisfied.

Hatred washed over him, so swift, unexpected, and strong, that he couldn’t say anything. It burned in his throat, made his belly clench and his jaw tight. He wished he’d killed him.

As if he knew what Chantry was thinking, Rainey took a step back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

One of the cops came into the room holding a clipboard with some papers. He pulled out a chair for Mama then took the seat across from Chantry at the little table. He looked over at him. “You’re a fortunate young man. You didn’t kill anyone. It could have been a different story if you’d hit another car or someone crossing the road.”

Chantry looked away. He’d already thought of that. It made him queasy.

The cop shook his head and glanced over at Mama. “Mrs. Lassiter, I’m not sure you’re doing the right thing. There have to be consequences for breaking the law. Boys who don’t learn that lesson early end up doing hard time in prison.”

“My son is not a criminal, Sergeant Gordon, but I agree there must be consequences. He should never have tried to evade the police. However, as I have already told you, he had my permission to take the truck. I know he doesn’t have his license, but he is fifteen and has a permit. It was my unfortunate decision to send him on an errand without informing my husband.”

Chantry lifted his head to look at her. Mama had never told a lie in her life that he knew about, and now she sat here and lied to the police like she’d been doing it every day. A wave of shame scalded him, that he’d put her in this position.

Sergeant Gordon didn’t look like he believed her, either. He glanced at Rainey’s face, then back at Chantry, but only nodded. “Since Mr. Ledbetter verifies your story and vouches for the boy, there will be no stolen car charges filed against him now that your husband has withdrawn his complaint. While there’s still the matter of resisting arrest and assaulting an officer, Mr. Ledbetter has provided counsel and assurance that your boy’ll be in court on the appointed day. This is a small town, Miz Lassiter. We don’t stand on ceremony a lot when there are questionable circumstances. But I’d like to remind you that sword cuts both ways. We’ll be keeping a close eye on him.”