rain was their new way of life. Ned met Cody in the sheriffâs office parking lot and they drove through a light drizzle to both of Chisumâs body shops to see if anyone had come in with damage to a hood or fender. No one reported repairs consistent with the hit and run, but they promised to give Cody a call if they ran across anything.
When they were back in the car, Ned shook water off his hat onto the floorboard and plucked the microphone off the dash bracket. âJohn, you listening?â
Thunder rumbled as Cody steered the sheriffâs car onto North Main. It was gloomy enough that the lights came on in the stores and reflected off the wet concrete and bricks. Most of the people without umbrellas stuck to the covered sidewalks for shelter and avoided the open town square and its Italian marble fountain. âYou could use his call numbers, you know.â
âYep, and heâd answer the same.â Ned didnât like call numbers. He preferred to use the radio the same way he talked.
âGo ahead, Mr. Ned.â Deputy John Washingtonâs voice was deep and rich even through the cheap radio speaker. John was a mythical figure in Chisum, a giant of a man whose shoulders brushed most doorframes when he passed. He was the first official black deputy in the county, and though it wasnât written anywhere, Big Johnâs assignment was to represent the law to the colored folks.
Ned considered John a family member. They worked closely together through the years, and had a reputation that covered northeast Texas. Both men were fair, but didnât take any nonsense from anyone, black, white, red, or green.
âMeân Cody are heading over to Malcom Jacksonâs shop. You want to meet us there?â
âSure ânough. Trouble?â
âNaw. Checking body shops. You heard about the hit and run in Center Springs?â
âI did. Aâite. See you there.â
Cody turned south. âWhereâs the shop?â
âYou ainât been there?â
âNot that I remember.â
They passed Nathan Jewelers. âHit West Washington and keep going.â
Cody glanced at Ned, and then did a double take that would have been funny any other time. âYou okay?â
Ned wondered what Cody knew. He hadnât been feeling great for the past couple of weeks, and his stomach tingled deep inside where heâd been shot months ago. âIâm fine. Why?â
âYour face is beet red. Your blood pressure must be up.â
âI feel a little flushed is all.â
âYouâre more than flushed. You better run by Doc Heinzâs office.â
âYouâre bound and determined to get me into the doctorâs office these days, ainât you?â
âItâs not that, but you were supposed to go by a long time ago for him to check out that wound. I donât know why you donât do it.â
Ned absently rubbed his belly where the bullet had caused considerable damage. âBecause Iâve got better things to do than have him poke at me for a minute and then want ten dollars for looking at my tongue.â
Pools of water spotted the broken streets. The houses changed from the Craftsman, Tudor, and Victorian styles to more modest bungalows and saltboxes. Fewer houses were painted, and those that were, boasted bright colors. They cruised down streets without curbs. In places, grass only grew in the ditches full of running water. Contrasting with other parts of town, the yards were mostly bare mud. Scattered among those who seemed to barely survive, other houses bloomed bright with late season flower and vegetable gardens.
Despite the weather, the neighborhood corner mom and pop grocery was busy. Ned pointed. âAcross the street there.â
What was once an unpainted livery stable had been converted to a garage. Wide oak trees shaded two bare dirt lots packed hard and black from years of spilled grease, oil, and traffic.
Kate Douglas
Jaymin Eve
Karen Robards
Eve Rabi
Lauraine Snelling
Mac Park
Norman Ollestad
Annabel Joseph
Mohammed Achaari
Jay Merson