Winter Seeks Out the Lonely by Larry D. Sweazy

Author:Larry D. Sweazy [Sweazy, Larry D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The headlights of Sonny’s truck sliced through the early darkness like a sharp knife cutting through tender beef. Swirls of sand had drifted across the farm-to-market road that led out of Wellington, slowing Sonny’s trip home more than he would have liked. Blue stared out of the window, stoic, quiet, content to be inside instead of in the bed of the truck, suffering the weather. The window was cracked about an inch from the top, allowing a cold breeze to circulate air inside the cab, helping to keep Sonny awake. It had been a long day in town. Not what he had planned on at all. It could have been longer if he would have gone out to the Hernandez place, but when it came to that fork in the road, Sonny had chosen to take everyone’s advice and stay out of whatever it was that was going on. Jesse was more than capable of handling himself anyway. The boy had proven himself in tough situations more than once.

Sonny had to slow the truck again to navigate another wall of dust storm residue piled in the middle of the road. There was nothing left for a lot of poor dirt farmers to toil in, to make a living with, but there were still productive cotton fields dotted around the county, allowing some farmers, like the Harmesons, to carve out a living, if it could be called that. January was hard on everyone, but farmers saw the worst of it, living off of last year’s crop if there was any profit at all, and hoping for a better crop in the year to come.

The truck lurched through the pile of sand, and Sonny sputtered on toward home. He slowed again as he passed by the circus, curious if Jonesy had found what he was looking for, if Heck Kilbride had shown himself, proving the sheriff wrong and Sonny right. The way things were, Jonesy wouldn’t admit to being wrong if Heck Kilbride tapped him on the shoulder and asked him to dance.

A dim glow emitted from inside the big top, making the giant tent look like an eerie jack-o’-lantern at Halloween, beckoning fearful thoughts and spooky dreams. Sonny thought about stopping and talking to Frances and Milton, but he didn’t. He’d had enough of other people’s troubles for one day the way it was. He pressed on, taking notice of the Harmeson house as he passed by. It was a typical two-story farmhouse with a chicken coop and a couple of barns dotted around the property. The house, like most of the rest of the houses in the county, was in dire need of a whitewash, but that would have been a waste of time and money as long as the dusters roared across the land peppering the siding with enough force to skin the wood down a layer or two. Nobody had enough time or money the way it was to make things look nice.

Sonny didn’t want any trouble to befall any of the Harmesons.

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