Goldeline by Jimmy Cajoleas (i read books txt) 📕

Zeb stabs the knife in the table, where it sticks like an exclamation point.

I think maybe Zeb was just messing with us, dangling that knife around. I think maybe Zeb is just a lonely old guy whose momma died, same as me and Tommy. I think maybe the whole world is a forest full of people like us, people who were born missing something, people who will never belong, people who wander the world lost looking for someone to share their lantern light with.

So why do the people in Templeton hate us so much?

A bang on the door.

“Two knocks in one night?” says Zeb. “Must be my lucky day.” But he looks at me and sees how scared I am. “What’s the matter with you?”

More knocks, and harder.

“Just don’t tell him we’re here,” I say.

“Tell who?” he says.

“Please,” I say.

“What kind of wicked you got on your tail, girl?” he says. “What did you bring to my house? Get back there behind the curtain and shut your mouth.”

He points a crooked finger to the back of the room, where there hangs a tattered and patched red curtain. Behind it is a little washroom with a bucket and a cracked mirror. Also a hoe, a shovel, a wheelbarrow with a busted wheel, and an old rotting pile of beets.

“There’s a hatch in there,” whispers Zeb. “A hiding spot. Momma made it. When you get in, reach your arm out and pull that there sack over the hole. And don’t you dare peep a word.”

I shut the curtain while Tommy pulls the hatch open and climbs in. There’s just enough room for me too. But I don’t go down there yet. I want to watch him, the Preacher. I want to see. I peek through an eye-sized tear in the curtain.

Zeb opens the door. There stands a tall man in a long, rain-soaked black cloak, hooded like death or worse. Lightning glows the sky like angels behind him. I’m scared down to my fingers. He pulls back the hood. The wild white hair spills out all over the place. The candle light shines the scar down his cheek. It’s the Preacher.

There’s no door behind me, no way out of this washroom. I keep both hands over my mouth so I don’t even make a whimper.

“Pardon the intrusion. Raining like the dickens out there.” He’s dripping a puddle off his wet clothes right at Zeb’s nubs. He shakes the rain from his hat and looks around the room. He stops at Zeb and makes a clicking sound with his mouth, like it’s the first time he really noticed him down there. The Preacher kneels down to Zeb’s eye level. “Hello, sir. It is a pleasure indeed to make the acquaintance of one of the Lord’s unfortunates, especially on a devil-wrought night such as this.”

Zeb hocks a big loogie. It slithers down the earth wall.

“What do you want?” he says.

The Preacher slits a grin, wide and shining.

“Little unfortunate, I will excuse your tone for ignorance. I’m acting interim deputy sheriff of Templeton. I am also a man of God and it would be good of you to address me as such.”

“You mean you’re a preacher. Never had much use for preachers,” says Zeb. “Hollering up there, waving your hands around. Terrible way to spend a Sunday. Holy day you know, day of rest. Tired on a Sunday. Eat some stew and take a nap, that’s about all I’m up to. Preachers never helped with the farm work. Preachers never did nothing for my old momma, heaven rest her bones.”

Zeb scoots over to his bottle and drinks.

“State your business, Preacher. Dinner’s getting cold.”

“I’m chasing a fugitive girl,” says the Preacher. “A tiny creature, white hair. Her mother was a dabbler in dark arts. A witch. She received her due punishment two years back, when I first began to reclaim this land for the Lord. The little girl has been working with some highwaymen. Notorious bunch, all degenerates and thieves. We got tipped off as to their location by a victim of theirs, a little boy who is also missing.”

“Awful, such folk on this earth,” says Zeb. He takes another sip of the bottle.

Tommy’s hiding in the hatch, but he could get the Preacher’s attention with just a sound. What if he gives me up? He could. It’d be his right. I kidnapped him, I did it with a knife. He could give me up right now and go home free. Tommy looks at me with his soft blue eyes and I know he knows it too. I hold up my finger to my lips, but I don’t even have the knife to make him obey me. Right now Tommy can do whatever he wants. Right now my life is up to him.

“Fancy having a preacher in the house. I ain’t seen another soul in months. Since Momma passed, it’s just me here. I do good in the garden, digging up that ground. Love my garden. Spend all day out there. Growing stuff. Beets mostly. Love beets. You like beets?”

“I take delight in all of God’s creation,” says the Preacher. He smiles grandly, and it chills me full through.

Zeb scowls and spits again. “Beets are the hearts of the earth.” He pulls one out of the pile, shines it on his shirt like an apple. He takes a big bite. “When you munch on a beet, that’s what the earth tastes like.”

“Do you live alone, little unfortunate?”

“Don’t call me that. I ain’t any unfortunate. Had my share of bad luck but I’m a man all the same. Made in God’s image, same as you. I’m a sir.”

“Indeed. Well, sir. Tell me now. Do you live in this decrepit mound of earth all by yourself?”

“I do. Ever since eighteen years back, when Momma died. Awful I tell you. Lonesome. I miss my momma. Hard to get around when you don’t got legs. That’s how I got into beets. Momma didn’t like meat.