Goldeline by Jimmy Cajoleas (i read books txt) 📕

I run over to where they hung him, under the branches of a tree older than all of us, a tree that will probably still be here long after we’re all gone. I shut my eyes and try to see his face, try to look into his eyes and tell him I love him one last time. To thank him for saving me.

Sure, Gruff may have used me to help him steal. But that’s just one way to tell the story, the way someone else might do it. In my story—the way I’ll tell it until I die—Gruff saved my life. He showed me how to live in this world, what an evil place it could be and how to make it good anyhow. That’s the way my story goes. And I dare anybody to tell me I’m wrong.

Good-bye, Gruff. I’ll love you always in my heart and in my blood. I’ll love you always with every one of my bones.

I blow him a kiss and let it fly up where his soul went, up to where the stars are. If love covers over a multitude of sins, then maybe Gruff’s love for me saved him a little. It’s worth a prayer.

Tommy grabs my hand and we run back down the street, back from where we came, back to the woods, not a hope left in the world for us except that we’re two of us, together, not each one alone. Somewhere out there a wicked preacher waits, coiled up like a rattlesnake, fangs out and ready for us. He’s hiding out there, and I hate thinking that we’re running straight to him. But we got no choice. We run back into the long loud dark of the woods.

FIFTEEN

For maybe an hour me and Tommy stumble through the night. The moon is up high and ghosty, the clouds cracked like a mirror. It’s hard to walk strange woods at night. You step and you’re never sure where your foot will land, what vines can trip you, what clawing creatures hide themselves down in the dark.

I can’t tell if we lost the men or not. Every few minutes I think I hear them behind us, a crackle and a stomp, a flicker of light where there shouldn’t be any light. A fog’s creeping up in the damp like there are demons on the prowl. We’re tired and we’re hungry and the night is dark and full of bird sounds, strange cracks and yips and breaks, what sounds sometimes like singing. It’s like these woods are alive and full of ghosts tonight, wicked ones, the spirits of stranglers and child-nabbers huddled around cold fires. I know we made it safe through this forest once, just barely, but I’m scared to test my luck a second time. Tommy holds my hand and we walk through the woods with our other hands out like blind people, like kids scared of getting any more lost.

When we’re too tired to go any farther I find us a tall tree with thick branches and a lot of leaves. It’ll be good cover. We climb until we’re higher than a man’s head, up to a thick limb that forks just right for sitting. I hang my pack on a close-by branch where I can grab it easy if I need to. Tommy leans against the trunk and I lie back against him and he puts his arms around me, for safety. Even though it’s hot I drape Zeb’s momma’s cloak over us, to protect us, to keep us hidden. Bats fly around, little blinks in the night. The moon is so lovely and unscared. She just shines and shines and wishes us well. I turn my face toward Tommy as best as I can. In the night his eyes are dark and glistening.

“Thanks, Tommy,” I say. “You saved my life again.”

“Happy to,” he says, smiling. “I just can’t wait till all this is over and we can get to my aunt Barbara’s house.”

“Yeah,” I say. “You’re really gonna love it there.”

Soon Tommy’s sleeping, his soft breath on my neck, his heartbeat gentle against my back, the warmth of the two of us together in the tree, safe and hidden.

I like being with Tommy, but it isn’t the same. Tommy can’t be my family. Not really. How can he be when all I can think about is Gruff, and always in my mind is Momma. My dead ones, the ones who loved me. They’re the only family I’ll ever have.

The tears start. I keep them quiet, lest I wake Tommy, lest I call the Preacher to us. I cry until I feel sleep coming. I hope I don’t have any more dreams tonight. I hope I don’t dream of Gruff. I don’t think I could bear to wake up from it.

It’s still dark night but I hear something, a cackle and a laugh from far off in the woods. Through the trees a little twig of smoke sticks out into the sky. People—a few men from the sounds of it—around a campfire.

I know I should stay up in the tree. I know it’s too dangerous to climb down, to go searching, but I have to. Something tugs in me, a quiet whispering voice on the wind that latches into my heart and begs me forward. I loosen Tommy’s arms from around me, careful not to wake him, and draw the cloak over my shoulders as I slide down the tree to the dirt below. I feel as if I’m in a dream, the soft flowing fog, the night birds, the lightning bugs blinking like green little souls.

It’s so easy to be quiet when it’s just me alone, no Tommy crashing around behind me. Barefoot on the soft soil, I take myself through the fog, led by the breeze as if it were a song only I can hear. The moon looks down with a question in its eye. I’m on a mission,