Arrowmoon by George Wier

Author:George Wier [Wier, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1512246042
Google: gfPgDwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B008A89PM8
Goodreads: 18922344
Publisher: Flagstone Books
Published: 2012-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

We measure time in many ways: the positions of the sun, moon and stars; by clocks and calendars; by events of magnitude and by demarcations in our own lives; and ultimately it is measured in the span of years that encompass a lifetime.

So how old is old?

For me, someone isn’t old until they can’t walk due to infirmity or reach an age of around seventy, whichever is sooner.

I knew I would be revising my standard upwards after meeting Ely Green.

He lived near the junction of two minor state roads appropriately called “Crossroads”, a community consisting of a few houses set back on large, cleared spreads of land and one defunct gas station.

We were in the next county to the east of Robertson County beneath a strange, crimson-hued moon. A red moon. I was sure there was some kind of sailor’s superstition about such an occurrence: rough weather ahead, “here thar be monsters” ― some odd belief.

I felt good. Revitalized.

During the trip over the Judge and I had talked out a few things, the most surprising of which was of something that had happened while I was asleep. Lief had slept for five hours, had arisen abruptly and gone out on the front porch to sit and talk with Darla for a good long time. The two of them would be spending more time together. The attraction appeared to be mutual.

The other bit of information that I got was that Tate Lancing had survived and was out of ICU. X-rays showed that the bullet had lodged against two vertebrae in his neck, but that his spinal cord was intact. He would be going into surgery some time tomorrow. He had been truly lucky in that he had lost no motor control to any of his extremities. The judge had promised him the pistol from the safe, but the firing pin would have to be removed from the gun because Tate was a felon and not allowed to possess a firearm that could fire. Also, Tate wouldn’t be able to take it outside of his house once he made it back home, nor show it to anybody. That was fine by him.

Lief had gone back to the construction site and was pushing the highway on through. That part of my mission, at least, had been accomplished.

When we knocked on the screen door of the house in the country, the Judge and I were greeted with a “Come on in.” When we went inside I immediately smelled boiled cabbage.

“Hello, Judge,” Ely Green said.

“Ely. This is the fellow I told you about. Bill Travis, this is Mr. Green.”

I stepped forward and shook the man’s hand. He was standing at a folding card table where he had been working over a large jigsaw puzzle. The puzzle was about halfway done and there were several piles of pieces sorted by color.

Ely Green didn’t look to be a day over eighty-five, but according to Judge Sinclair, he was a hundred and twelve.

He was completely bald and had a light, even sprinkling of freckles from the crown of his head down onto his neck.

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