The Last Man by Thomas Goodman

Author:Thomas Goodman [Goodman, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798987750810
Published: 2023-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

That afternoon, Bobby brought a bucket of drinking water to the guards at the front gate. Outside the fence line and beyond the bend in the road, a faraway voice was singing.

Gonna pack up all my care and woe

Here I go, singing low

Bye, bye, blackbird.

The tenor voice was fit for a stage, like it was some live a cappella performance on the radio. Bobby heard the squeak of a wagon and the arrhythmic clop of two donkeys in harness. Soon, the same clapboard wagon that transferred Bobby to the Wynne farm came into view. Two men were in chains on the back benches. One of them raised his hands toward the fields, rattling the chains that bound his wrists, flushing crows up from the plowed earth in a snapping flutter of wings. He laughed and sang out to the fleeing birds.

Make my bed and light the light,

I’ll arrive late tonight.

Blackbird, bye, bye.

The singer appeared to be in his mid-twenties, a full head of dark hair, and Bobby thought of Marshall. The singer even carried himself with that cocky confidence Marshall had. His companion in the buckboard looked older by a decade, jaundiced, with dark circles under his eyes.

The driver reined in at the gate, and at the guard’s command, the two prisoners jumped off the back of the wagon. They were marched through the gate and to the captain.

“Who’d they send me today?”

A guard pointed to the jaundiced man, who wheezed out a long, rolling cough. The guard stepped back from him with a look of disgust. “This one’s Marvin Azbell. He was sent up for marrying too many women.”

“Marrying too many women?”

“And none of them knew about the others.”

“Son, how many women you have for wives out there?”

“Four,” Azbell said, his voice only a hoarse whisper after his coughing fit.

“You a glutton for punishment or something?”

The guards around the yard chuckled.

“And now you’ve come down with the consumption.”

“That’s what they tell me, boss.”

“From the look of you, they telling the truth.”

“I hope not, boss.”

The captain made a nod of his head toward the other prisoner. “And what about our Al Jolson here?”

“This one’s Bob Silver.”

“The one who was on death row?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He don’t look consumptive.”

“No, sir.”

“You belong with the TBs, Bob Silver?”

Silver smiled at the captain. “I don’t know, boss. They ran a test, but I feel fine.”

“What did you do?”

“Armed robbery, boss.”

“No, what did you do at the Walls, after the governor took you off the death row?”

“I was with the laundry, boss.”

“Well, you’ll boil laundry here, too. And our marrying man . . .” The captain assessed Azbell doubtfully. “We’ll just have to see.”

The captain stepped aside and waved the guard on. Silver and Azbell were marched into the bunkhouse to be presented to the tender.

Inside the yard, Bobby still held the water bucket. A guard lifted the dipper to his mouth, took a drink, and dropped the dipper back into the bucket. “You go on now and get back to the kitchen.”

“Going to the kitchen, boss.”

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