Page 65 of The River We Remember

“Fuggin’ Creasy,” Del said. “He’s always been a bastard, but lately he’s been getting worse. He has these nightmares. Wakes up screaming. It didn’t used to be so bad, but since we came here, something about this place seems to have set him off. Mom says it’s because his old man used to beat him pretty bad when he was a kid. Whatever it is, it gives him the shakes, even during the day sometimes. Drinks like a fish, and when he’s sloshed, let me tell you, you better stay out of his way. He’s scaring me, Madman.”

“Can’t you leave?”

“Me, I’d take off in a minute. Mom says she has to stand by him. I don’t get it, but that’s the way she is. How long you grounded?”

“Not really grounded. I just have to work extra hours at the Wagon Wheel.”

“Not so bad,” Del said. He looked around furtively, then reached under his T-shirt at the small of his back and brought out a pistol. “What do you think?”

“Whoa. Where’d you get that?”

“It’s Creasy’s.”

“You just took it?”

“Yeah. He keeps it in the closet in their bedroom. He has rifles, but he almost never takes this out. It’s a twenty-two. I’ve been sleeping with it under my pillow in case some night Creasy really goes nuts. I thought maybe when you’re not on your mom’s shit list anymore, we could do some target practice. It’ll be a kick, Madman.”

The pistol was small but looked dangerous in Del’s palm. Although Scott felt a profound sense of menace coming from it, he also found it mesmerizing.

“Scott!” his mother called from inside the café.

At the sound of her voice, Del shoved the firearm back into the waist of his pants and hid it again under his T-shirt.

Scott’s mother opened the screen door. “Hello, Del.” Scott knew she was upset with Del for his part in keeping them both out so long beyond curfew the night before, but she nonetheless gave him a gracious smile.

“Evening, Mrs. Madison.”

“Del, I’m afraid Scott has work to do.”

“Sure. I just stopped by to ask if he could help me entertain my cousin and her friend who’ll be visiting this weekend.”

Which was news to Scott, though he tried his best not to show it.

“When are they coming?” Scott’s mother asked.

“Friday.”

“That would be all right, if it’s all right with Scott. What are you planning on doing?”

“I thought we’d take them tubing on the river.”

“Okay with you, Scott?” she asked.

“Sure,” her son said.

“Great.” Del slapped his friend’s shoulder and said, “Later, Madman.” He went to his motorbike, righted it, pulled the cord to engage the engine, and rode off.

Scott’s mother watched him go with a troubled look on her face. “Was he in a fight?”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“That bruise,” she said.

He could have told her the truth, but that might lead to other questions and then he might not be able to go shooting with Del. So he said, “Probably just fell off his bike.”

She said, “Hmmmm,” as if not completely convinced, but turned her attention to her son. “You need to take some supper over to the jailhouse.”

“Mr. Bluestone?”