The Forsaken and the Dead by Sidney Thompson

Author:Sidney Thompson [Thompson, Sidney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC049040 FICTION / African American & Black / Historical, HIS056000 HISTORY / African American & Black
Publisher: Bison Books

10

Pauls Valley

The bottomland of Pauls Valley was so low that, until this morning, Bass had no recollection of ever setting foot in the town when it wasn’t muddy. But a dry wind was bucking, and the dust it stirred lashed like rain. “Beware of dogs,” he thought. In Pauls Valley, he always gave his respects to the Apostle Paul.

Only a handful of townspeople braved the dust storm to cross from store to store. Those who did rushed with their coattails and petticoats flying, though one cowboy walked the boardwalk without concerning himself to pull his neckerchief up or clutch the brim of his hat.

Horses at the courthouse sulked under coats of dust. Inside it seemed everyone either whispered Bass’s name or reacted with mute surprise to see him as if he were a ghost. By God he prayed he was a ghost for the Lord because there was one lost soul—at least one more—he had to do his best to save.

He removed his hat and nodded or muttered a howdy or how-do to the clerks and deputies and Lighthorsemen as he walked past them, past the jails and prisoners, to the commissioner’s office.

The commissioner, Randolph Darley, was the splitting image of President Cleveland, never more than when he was filling up his chair. Bass usually initiated their conversations with a joke, calling the commissioner the president of Ohio or remarking on his morbid appetite for gold and unwilling girls, but today Bass could see his friend was fretting, so Bass got to the point. “What do you know?” he asked and reached for Darley’s outstretched hand.

Darley shook firmly. “Nobody in the district wanted to track him, Bass.” Darley slowed their handshake but kept his grip. “You should know that, out of respect for you, not a one.” He relaxed his grip and pointed at the empty chair beside his.

As they sat down Bass averted his eyes to find Eddie lingering in the hallway outside the office. Not in the doorway this time, thank goodness. “Give me the writ,” Bass said. “I want it.”

Darley nodded as if they were in church and he was silently agreeing. “I’m glad for your son you do. You’re a good man, Bass. As a father I couldn’t sympathize with you more, I really couldn’t. You’re in a tough position. The toughest.”

“Got no choice,” Bass admitted. “Sure look like Bennie did it. Witness say so, and he run off.” A vein of sadness opened up in his chest for the sweet boy Bennie was and always had been, even if he’d been a little troublesome. Never troublesome with the law, but he’d seemed poised at the line between headache and heartache his entire life—always ready to bolt one way or the other.

Bass sat up straight as if to pinch the vein and he took a breath. He let it out slowly and fumbled with his dusty hat while Darley watched him fatherlike. “I thought his mother and I raised him to do better, be better,” Bass said.

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