Page 144 of The River We Remember

ANGIE MADISON STOOD outside in the waning light of day, her arms crossed pensively. Wendell Moon still occupied the porch chair in which he’d sat all afternoon. He had a paper plate on his lap and was eating a turkey sandwich Angie had prepared for him. Leaning against the wall at his side, next to his guitar, was a squirrel gun, an old .22 long rifle. After Brody got the call about Tyler Creasy waving a shotgun around at the Quinn place, Wendell had gone to his room above the garage and pulled the old piece from the closet where he kept it. It was clean and oiled and loaded.

“Beautiful sunset for such an ugly day,” Wendell said and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. “Like God puttin’ icing on a cow pie.”

“Do you believe in God, Wendell?” Angie didn’t look at him when she asked. Her eyes were on the street, watching for Scott or Del, or for Brody to come with some word of the boys.

“Seen too many miracles to say no to that one, Angie.”

“What kind of miracles, Wendell?”

“Birth of my son, for one.”

Now she looked at him, and it was with surprise. “Whenever I’ve asked you, Wendell, you’ve always said that you’ve got no family. Why haven’t you ever told me you had a son?”

“No reason to.”

“Where is he?”

“Lost him in the war, in some jungle. Missing in action first, then presumed dead. Nothing after that. Presumed,” he said, as if the word were an affront. “You don’t hear from someone for fifteen years, it’s a pretty good bet he’s not coming back.”

“I’m sorry, Wendell.”

“So am I. But that’s the way it is, and that’s why I never told you. Nothing to be done about it. You asked about miracles. I believe in ’em, I do. Yeah, I’d love to see that son of mine come walkin’ down Main Street here in Jewel someday. I know it ain’t gonna happen. But there is a miracle in the way things are.”

“What would that be?”

“What I said about not havin’ any family? That’s not true. I’m sittin’ here on this porch, with a woman that’s family to me, and another woman in this house that’s family, and a boy out there that’s family. When I lost my son, I pretty much thought I lost everything. Then I stumbled onto you and Ida and Scott.” He looked up at her and smiled. “You asked me if I believe in God. You know what I think, Angie? I think you’re God. And Ida is. And Scott. And you know what else? Me, too, this old black Okie. If that makes any sense to you.”

She went down on her knees and wrapped her arms around Wendell, who still smelled of fried onions from the kitchen. “It makes perfect sense to me.”

She stood up and Wendell said, “Now if I can just line up a bead on that Tyler Creasy, I’d happily send that man’s soul into the arms of the angels for a little redemption.”

“I don’t want anyone dead,” she said. “Not even Tyler Creasy. I just want my son back.”

Wendell considered that, gave a nod, and returned to eating his sandwich.

She spotted Brody’s cruiser approaching from far down Main Street, and her heart made a fist in her chest. Brody pulled to the curb. She wanted to run to him but held back. He didn’t look happy as he came up the walk.

“Have you heard from Scott?” he asked before he reached her.

“He called but wouldn’t tell me where he was. Have you had any word?”

He shook his head. He smelled of smoke, and his face was bright red, and his eyebrows had been singed nearly clean off.

“What happened?” she asked. “You look like you’ve been in a fire.”

“Creasy tried to burn down the Quinns’ barn.”

Wendell said, “And maybe did that barn burn the man up with it?”

“He managed to slip away,” Brody said.

All of Angie’s fears welled up, nearly choking her. “He’s still out there, then. And Scott’s still out there. Oh, Brody, I don’t know what to do.”

The radio in Brody’s cruiser crackled. “Base to Unit One. Come in, Brody.”

He lifted a finger to Angie, a signal to be patient while he took the call. The radio was loud enough that she heard the information Hank Evans relayed: Tyler Creasy had attacked Kyoko Bluestone.

Brody came back.