enjoying his first drag when the truck pulled up and Austin Hatinger rolled out of it.
He was as grizzled and bulky as the old Ford, but was held together by sinew and muscle rather than bailing twine and spit. Beneath his grease-stained planter’s hat, his face looked as if it had been carved out of tree bark. Deep lines flared out from his walnut-colored eyes, scored his wind-burned cheeks, and bracketed his hard, unsmiling mouth.
Not a speck of hair showed beneath the hat. Not that Austin was bald. Every month he drove into the barber shop and had his gray-flecked hair buzzed. Perhaps, Tucker sometimes thought, in memory of the four years he’d served in the Corps.
Semper Fi.
That was just one of the sentiments he had tattooed on his cinder-block arms. Along with it, rippling over muscle, was the American flag.
Austin—who would be the first to tell you he was a God-fearing Christian—had never gone in for such frivolities as dancing girls.
He spit a stream of Red Indian into the gravel, leaving a nasty-looking puddle of yellow. Beneath his dusty overalls and sweaty work shirt—which even in the heat Austin wore buttoned clear to the top—his chest was broad as a bull’s.
Tucker noted that he hadn’t brought out any of the rifles slotted into the rack in the back window of the cab. He hoped he could take that courtesy as a good omen.
“Austin.” He came down one step, a sign of marginal friendliness.
“Longstreet.” He had a voice like a rusty nail skidding over concrete. “Where the hell is my girl?”
Since it was the last question Tucker expected, he only blinked politely. “Excuse me?”
“You godless, rutting fuck. Where the hell is my Edda Lou?”
The description was a little more along the lines of what Tucker had expected. “I haven’t seen Edda Lou since day before yesterday, when she went at me in the diner.” He held up a hand before Austin could speak. There was still something to be said for being part of the most powerful family in the county. “You can be as pissed as you want, Austin, and I’d expect that to be mighty damn pissed, but the fact is I slept with your daughter.” He took a long, slow drag. “You probably had a pretty good idea what I was doing when I was doing it, and I don’t figure you liked it much. And I don’t figure I can blame you for it.”
Austin’s lips peeled back from yellowed, uneven teeth. No one would have mistaken it for a smile. “I shoulda skinned your worthless hide the first time you came sniffing around her.”
“Maybe, but seeing as Edda’s been over twenty-one for a couple years or more, she does her own choosing.” Tucker drew on the cigarette again, considered the tip, then flicked it aside. “The point is, Austin, what’s done’s done.”
“Easy to say when you planted a bastard in my daughter’s belly.”
“With her full cooperation,” Tucker said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to see to it that she has everything she needs while she’s carrying the baby, and there’ll be no pinching on the child support.”
“Big talk.” Austin spat again. “Smooth talk. You’ve always been able to get your tongue around words real good, Tucker. Now you listen to a few. I take care of my own, and I want that girl out here, now.”
Tucker merely lifted a brow. “You think Edda’s here? She’s not.”
“Liar! Fornicator!” His grating voice rose and fell like an evangelist’s with strep throat. “Your soul’s black with sin.”
“I can’t argue about that,” Tucker said as agreeably as he could, “but Edda Lou’s not here. I’ve got no reason to lie about that, and you can take a look for yourself, but I’m telling you I haven’t seen or heard from her since she made her grand announcement.”
Austin considered barging into the house, and he considered just what kind of fool that would make him. He wasn’t about to play the fool for a Longstreet. “She ain’t here, she ain’t nowhere
He was as grizzled and bulky as the old Ford, but was held together by sinew and muscle rather than bailing twine and spit. Beneath his grease-stained planter’s hat, his face looked as if it had been carved out of tree bark. Deep lines flared out from his walnut-colored eyes, scored his wind-burned cheeks, and bracketed his hard, unsmiling mouth.
Not a speck of hair showed beneath the hat. Not that Austin was bald. Every month he drove into the barber shop and had his gray-flecked hair buzzed. Perhaps, Tucker sometimes thought, in memory of the four years he’d served in the Corps.
Semper Fi.
That was just one of the sentiments he had tattooed on his cinder-block arms. Along with it, rippling over muscle, was the American flag.
Austin—who would be the first to tell you he was a God-fearing Christian—had never gone in for such frivolities as dancing girls.
He spit a stream of Red Indian into the gravel, leaving a nasty-looking puddle of yellow. Beneath his dusty overalls and sweaty work shirt—which even in the heat Austin wore buttoned clear to the top—his chest was broad as a bull’s.
Tucker noted that he hadn’t brought out any of the rifles slotted into the rack in the back window of the cab. He hoped he could take that courtesy as a good omen.
“Austin.” He came down one step, a sign of marginal friendliness.
“Longstreet.” He had a voice like a rusty nail skidding over concrete. “Where the hell is my girl?”
Since it was the last question Tucker expected, he only blinked politely. “Excuse me?”
“You godless, rutting fuck. Where the hell is my Edda Lou?”
The description was a little more along the lines of what Tucker had expected. “I haven’t seen Edda Lou since day before yesterday, when she went at me in the diner.” He held up a hand before Austin could speak. There was still something to be said for being part of the most powerful family in the county. “You can be as pissed as you want, Austin, and I’d expect that to be mighty damn pissed, but the fact is I slept with your daughter.” He took a long, slow drag. “You probably had a pretty good idea what I was doing when I was doing it, and I don’t figure you liked it much. And I don’t figure I can blame you for it.”
Austin’s lips peeled back from yellowed, uneven teeth. No one would have mistaken it for a smile. “I shoulda skinned your worthless hide the first time you came sniffing around her.”
“Maybe, but seeing as Edda’s been over twenty-one for a couple years or more, she does her own choosing.” Tucker drew on the cigarette again, considered the tip, then flicked it aside. “The point is, Austin, what’s done’s done.”
“Easy to say when you planted a bastard in my daughter’s belly.”
“With her full cooperation,” Tucker said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’m going to see to it that she has everything she needs while she’s carrying the baby, and there’ll be no pinching on the child support.”
“Big talk.” Austin spat again. “Smooth talk. You’ve always been able to get your tongue around words real good, Tucker. Now you listen to a few. I take care of my own, and I want that girl out here, now.”
Tucker merely lifted a brow. “You think Edda’s here? She’s not.”
“Liar! Fornicator!” His grating voice rose and fell like an evangelist’s with strep throat. “Your soul’s black with sin.”
“I can’t argue about that,” Tucker said as agreeably as he could, “but Edda Lou’s not here. I’ve got no reason to lie about that, and you can take a look for yourself, but I’m telling you I haven’t seen or heard from her since she made her grand announcement.”
Austin considered barging into the house, and he considered just what kind of fool that would make him. He wasn’t about to play the fool for a Longstreet. “She ain’t here, she ain’t nowhere
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