GENGHIS
THE SHIVE WOUND in my ribs burned. Upon our well-planned exit, one-eyed Joe tried to take me out. He wanted to be a brave fella so I left him alive, barely, but with that shive’s marks up and down his face for all his cell mates to see how worthless he was in his valor. Makes me smile when I picture our good-bye; one-eyed Joe now has no eye.
It was hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch, and to top it off, Toreck spent the morning droning and pacing at the river’s edge outside the cabin. I stood on the porch with my coffee, listening. Irritated.
“Where’d they go?” Toreck asked. “That bitch wife a mine sold the house and disappeared? Hell no man, she ain’t smart ’nuf to do it on her own. Priest musta helped her.”
His whining was tiresome. “So, tell me about the priest,” I said. “And the town.”
“Riley . . . real Ivy Leaguer,” he said lighting a cigarette. “Went to college, boxing champion all through school, then got shot in Korea, got some fancy medal. He’s always been everybody’s golden boy. Pisses me off. Now he’s a fuckin’ priest.”
“Warrior priest,” I said. “I like it.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing. Go on . . . What about his family?”
“His hottie sister’s always been a little queen bee, everybody’s princess. Sheriff’s a square—real punk with a gun. That chink woman is the sheriff’s sister-in-law, she’s one a them war brides, came in forty-six, with his brother.”
“His brother?”
“Sheriff’s brother died a couple years back. I’d a sent that witch woman packin’ back to the rice paddies, man. But, they’re all tight.” He tossed the match to the water. “Like family. And that Indian and the old lady, Mrs. B, especially can’t trust those two for nothin’. Thick as thieves.”
“Good to know,” I said, and dumped my cold coffee in the dirt. “So, this queen bee sister, she razzes your berries, does she?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’d like to rattle her cage.”
“Now there’s an idea.”