Page 26 of The River We Remember

“Jimmy Quinn’s dead. And get this. He was eaten by catfish in the Alabaster.”

“Mr. Quinn? No.”

“I swear it. I heard it from Creasy, and he heard it from the sheriff himself.”

Del joined Scott under the lean-to, sat down, slid a knapsack from his back, and cradled it in his lap.

“How’d he die?” Scott asked.

“Shotgun blast opened a big hole in him.” Del used his hands to illustrate the size of the wounding. “And those catfish, man, they ate all his guts.”

“Somebody killed him?”

“Naw, an accident probably. But who knows? Bastard like him, maybe somebody got fed up. Creasy says he’s wanted to kill the son of a bitch lots of times.”

Creasy had married Del’s mother, but he was not Del’s stepfather because Del had refused to be adopted. The man worked for James Quinn, on the farm. Creasy was his last name. His first name was Tyler, but Del, who didn’t much care for him, always called him Creasy.

“What was he doing in the river?”

“Search me.” Del finally seemed to notice the lean-to, reached out, and touched the framework. “What’s with the log cabin?”

“We’ve got a Scout jamboree coming up end of June. Just practicing my lashing techniques.”

Del gave the construction a good long assessment and said, “Cool, Madman.”

Delbert Wolfe had come to Jewel the year before. He and his mom and Creasy had traveled around a good deal prior to that, and Scott had a sense that the nomadic life had been tough. A new kid and an odd one, Del hadn’t made friends easily. Scott Madison was another kid who was different, and their differences attracted. When their acquaintance ripened into deep friendship, Del rechristened them both, gave them names that, because no one else addressed them in that way, created an intimacy Scott had never experienced before and, having found it, enjoyed greatly. Del Wolfe had become Wolfman. Scott Madison had become Madman.

“Got something to show you.” Del lifted the flap on the knapsack and pulled out a book. “Dig this.”

The book was Peyton Place, Grace Metalious’s exposé of small-town life in New Hampshire. Because of the furor it had created on publication, even Scott Madison in isolated Black Earth County knew about the book. Or knew enough to understand that it was, for someone his age, forbidden fruit.

“Where’d you get that?” Scott asked, awe and admiration in his voice.

“Gowen’s Book Store.”

“They let you have it?”

“My mom wrote a note telling them it was okay for me to buy whatever I wanted. She doesn’t care as long as I stay out of trouble and don’t bother her. And I used my own money.” Del opened the book to a page he’d dog-eared. “Read this.”

The text was underlined in red pencil, and Scott began to read. Sentences about nipples and hot throbbing flesh. About a woman wanting sex in a way that would hurt her a little. About a man with his hand on a woman’s most private place. About them actually doing it.

“Hot stuff, huh?” Del said.

“You better not let anyone catch you with this.”

“It’s just a book, Madman.” Del smiled. “But what a book.”

“You read the whole thing?”

“Fuggin’ right. Twice.”

Fuggin’. That was a word Del had pulled from one of his all-time favorite books, The Naked and the Dead, a story about combat soldiers in World War II.

“Scott!”

He looked toward the café, where his mother stood at the screen door that opened into the kitchen. She wore a flowered apron over a blue skirt and a yellow blouse. She gestured him to her and Scott got up. Wolfman stood with him and slipped the book back into his knapsack.

“Hello, Del,” Angie Madison said, offering the boy a warm smile. Her hair had fallen over her forehead and threatened to cover her right eye. She brushed it back with a casual gesture. “Nice to see you.”