A Thousand Falling Crows (34 page)

“What about him!”

“Hugh Beaverwood can't hurt anyone anymore. Don't you worry, son,” Sonny said.

Jesse was already down the stairs and into the basement by the time Sonny made it to the top of the stairs.

“Betty, Betty, are you down here?” Jesse called out.

Sonny heard a thump, thump, thump, like somebody was beating on a drum. He hurried down the stairs, his heart racing like it never had before.

Jesse had turned on the overhead lights, illuminating the basement like it was daylight.

By the time Sonny reached the bottom of the stairs, the thumping had stopped. There was a sea of coffins, mostly unfinished. It smelled like raw wood and varnish mixed with death.

Jesse stood over a plain walnut coffin with the lid up. “It's her, Pa. She's alive. Beaten up. But alive.”

CHAPTER 33

AUGUST 29, 1934

Sonny downshifted the truck as he pulled into the Jorgenson's drive. The house looked like the oasis it was in the soft morning light. Lidde had worked hard to green some zinnias in front of the house, and they were watered and blooming. It looked like a rainbow of colors—reds, yellows, and oranges—had fallen from the sky and stayed there. More than one chicken pecked at the ground. There were six or seven from what Sonny could tell. Fences were mended, and a few cages back by the barn had dogs in them. They barked as the truck rolled to a stop.

Pete and Lidde were standing on the porch, waiting, expecting them. There was no slouch in Pete's shoulders, and Lidde had a wide, welcoming smile on her face. Her hands were clasped at her ample waist, against her ever-present freshly bleached apron.

Sonny drew in a deep breath and looked over at Blue, who was on all fours, standing up, thumping his tail against the seat. He knew where he was. “Calm down, boy, you can go in a minute.” He looked past the dog to Carmen. There was no mistaking the small bulge in her stomach, like she had slid a ball under her dress. “Are you ready?”

Carmen shook her head.

“They're good people,” Sonny said. “Lidde will help you like no one else can.”

“I don't want to give him up,” Carmen said in Spanish, staring out the window. She eased her hand down to her belly and touched it gently. “He will need me.” A tear dripped down her cheek.

“No one said you had to give up the baby,” Sonny said. “You can decide when the time comes.”

“I have already decided.”

There was steel in Carmen's eyes and voice that Sonny couldn't—wouldn't—dispute. He nodded, opened the truck door, and stood up out of it.

Blue followed, easily jumping to the ground. The splint and bandage had come off, leaving the hound with a noticeable limp—but it did nothing to deter him. He ran straight up to Lidde, wagging his tail, nuzzling into her as she leaned down to greet the dog.

Aldo was already out of the back of the truck, waiting on Sonny and Carmen.

Like the house, and the Jorgensons, Aldo looked a little refreshed, but a little older, weathered by the past events. He looked at Carmen with sadness and love, though it was easy to see that he was hesitant around her, tepid, like he was afraid he would scare her off at any second.

Carmen sat in the truck, her teeth set tight, her eyes distant, her cheeks wet with fresh tears.

Aldo leaned inside the driver's door. “It is not a jail,” he said.

“I know,” Carmen answered. “They are strangers. Anglos. What do they know of me?”

Sonny stood back, stoic, waiting, trying not to listen, but there was no way to avoid it.

“Your momma would be here if she could. This is the best place for you and the baby,” Aldo said.

“They won't take him?”

“No one will take him, I promise.
Señor
Burton promises.”

Carmen looked at Sonny, who nodded again, reassuring her.

Sonny was surprised that they both were convinced that the baby was a boy, but said nothing. That was not any of his business.

Carmen nodded, then pushed out of the truck.

A smile crept across Aldo's face. He reached into the bed of the truck, and pulled out a small suitcase.

“She doesn't know how lucky she is,” Sonny said to Aldo.

“No, I don't think so. She could be in jail. Probably would be if she were older,” Aldo said. “I am thankful she is alive, here. That is all that matters. The baby has no crime to his name.”

Sonny nodded and remained where he stood. Aldo met Carmen, and they walked up to the house together.

Lidde met them at the stoop and allowed Aldo to make the introduction. Pete smiled down at Carmen and took the suitcase from Aldo.

“Come on,” Lidde said, wrapping her arm around Carmen, “let's go look at your room, yah? I‘ve made it extra comfortable, just for you. You'll like it, you'll see.”

Carmen looked at Aldo, who nodded, then leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “You will be fine. You'll see. I will stop in every day on my way home from work. You will not be alone here.”

“Promise?” Carmen asked.

“Yes, I promise,” Aldo said.

Carmen nodded. Lidde smiled. And they disappeared into the house. Blue followed, walked through the open door like he was welcome, like he lived there, too. No one noticed, or if they did, they didn't object.

Aldo watched, then turned, walked back to the truck, and climbed into the bed without saying a word to Sonny or Pete.

Sonny walked up to the porch and Pete set the suitcase down.

“Thanks for taking her in, Pete.”

“Our pleasure,” he said. “It's the last of that business for a while. How is your son? I haven't seen him for a while.”

Sonny sighed. “He went back to Brownsville for a little while to take care of some business. Once that's done, he'll be back up here permanent.”

“Gonna stay north with the company in your place?”

“I think it's a good thing. The trial'll be coming up soon, and Jesse'll need to be here anyway.”

Pete Jorgenson shook his head in disgust. “I never was comfortable around Hugh Beaverwood, but I always suspected that it was because he smelled like death, because of what he did for a livin'. But I guess all those tales about him was true after all. He was a bad man. Hurt more than he helped.”

“More will come out, I suppose,” Sonny said. “But I saw enough, know enough. I'm happy to leave all that to Jesse, now. He can handle it.”

“I think he can,” Pete offered with a smile, reaching out to tap Sonny's right shoulder like he would any old friend. He stopped as soon as he realized what he had done. A stricken look crossed Pete's face, replacing the ease and comfort that had been there seconds before.

“It's okay, Pete,” Sonny said, raising the hook. “I don't feel much pain anymore, and I‘m getting used to it more and more every day. Why, just this morning, I tied my shoes with it.” He looked down at his feet, proud of himself.

Pete smiled. “I‘m glad to hear it.”

“Well,” Sonny said, “I best get Aldo back home. I suppose you've got work to do.”

“Always that,” Pete said. He reached down and picked up the suitcase.

Sonny whistled for Blue, and in a matter of seconds the dog came running out the door. “I‘ll be seeing you, Pete,” he said, stepping off the porch, heading to the truck.

“Stop by any time, Sonny. There's always a cup of coffee for you here.”

Sonny waved and walked to the truck, then opened the door for Blue to jump in. The dog dove straight inside the cab and settled into his spot by the passenger window. Sonny slid into the driver's seat and started the truck like he'd been doing it all his life.

He smiled as he drove away from the Jorgensons'. It was the first time he could ever remember Pete calling him anything but Ranger Burton.

The crows watched and waited, hoping for another two-legged one to walk the world. The other one had vanished, but they knew it would only be a matter of time before another one would come along, leading them in the darkness to blood, to opportunity, to a silent festival of crows.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow's visit to Wellington, Texas, is based on actual events, but it has been shaped to fit the fictional narrative of this novel by the author. People, places, and timelines have been eliminated, meshed, and moved for the sole purpose of storytelling, not to rewrite history. Any mistakes are my own.

Readers interested in the Texas Rangers and Bonnie and Clyde in the 1930s should look to these books for further reading:
Lone Star Lawmen: The Second Century of the Texas Rangers
(Berkley, 2008) by Robert M. Utley,
Time of the Rangers: Texas Rangers: From 1900 to the Present
(Forge, 2010) by Mike Cox, and
Go Down Together: The True, Untold Story of Bonnie and Clyde
(Simon & Shuster, 2009) by Jeff Guinn.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This novel wouldn't have been possible without the encouragement of Matthew P. Mayo and David Cranmer. They selected my short story, “Shadow of the Crow,” for an anthology they edited, Beat to a Pulp: Round Two, giving me the belief and encouragement that there was more to Sonny Burton's story to tell. Thank you both.

Luckily, I have had the pleasure and opportunity to spend quality time around American crows. Liz and Chris Hatton rehab injured wild birds and also use them to educate the general public about their existence and why the birds are so important to us all. It is a privilege to be in the company of a wild animal, and I‘m grateful for the opportunity and the lessons I have learned. Thank you, Liz and Chris, this book wouldn't have been the same without spending time with you and the crows.

Special thanks goes to Dan Mayer, for your enthusiasm for this story, and to the entire Seventh Street Books team that sees my books to the shelves. Also, to my longtime agent, Cherry Weiner, who believed in this book from start and never gave up on it (a recurring theme).

Finally, thank you to my wife, Rose. You constantly amaze me with your wit, intelligence, and genuine heart. I am able to do what I do because of your continued belief and encouragement. Thank you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Larry D. Sweazy (www.larrydsweazy.com) is a two-time WWA (Western Writers of America) Spur Award winner, a two-time, back-to-back, winner of the Will Rogers Medallion Award, a Best Books of Indiana award winner, and the inaugural winner of the 2013 Elmer Kelton Book Award. He was also nominated for a Short Mystery Fiction Society (SMFS) Derringer award in 2007 (for the short story, “See Also Murder”). Larry has published over sixty nonfiction articles and short stories and is the author of ten novels, including six novels in the Josiah Wolfe western series (Berkley), two novels in the Lucas Fume western series (Berkley), The Devil's Bones, a thriller set in Indiana (Five Star), and one novel (See Also Murder) in the Marjorie Trumaine Mystery series (Seventh Street Books), with two more planned for the future. He currently lives in Indiana with his wife, Rose.