Ruby Holler: Chapters 26–45

Mr. Trepid thought of Z as a shiftless man, slipping in and out of town like a slithery possum.

Mr. Trepid did not like either the smell of the man or the looks of him: the matted hair, shiny with grease; the rumpled, frayed clothes, thick with grime; the cloudy green eyes behind their half-closed lids.

“Depends,” Z said, “on what I gotta do and how hard I gotta work to do it.” He slid his fingers through his gnarled hair, tugging at a knot. “And it depends on the, er, er—"

She’d been hungry last night when they were scrabbling through the woods, and she’d been hungry when they stopped for the night, but she’d been afraid to mention it because she hadn’t remembered to pack any food.

“Howdy, kids. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was just out here getting more kindling for the fire. Follow me.”

“You’ve been checking on us every night?” Florida said.
Sairy looked sheepish. “It’s just a mother thing,” she said.

She wanted to throw something at the woman, to jolt her out of her little dream world.

From this very window where she stood now, Mrs. Trepid had spotted the woman, bundled in a tattered and faded green dress, bending over the box.

Mrs. Trepid was intrigued by the way they clung to each other, and the way they responded to each other’s gurgles, and the way they reached for each other when they were separated.

To her surprise, though, people were wary of taking on twins.

That night, wind whipped through the holler in relentless surges, howling through the trees and rattling windowpanes.

That night, wind whipped through the holler in relentless surges, howling through the trees and rattling windowpanes.

“Go back to sleep,” he said. “Don’t think about it.” He promptly rolled over and drifted back to sleep, returning to the clear creek he’d left when Florida had woken him.

After breakfast, when they were clearing fallen branches from the porch, Tiller said, “I had a crazy notion just now.”

“You’re awful feisty this morning,” Tiller said.

They’d all stood around looking at the boat bobbing in the water until Sairy said, “I can’t hardly take all this standing around. I’m going to bust out blubbering.”

“Very good. Now we will start the project I mentioned. Are you prepared to keep this absolutely confidential?”

“What was his name, and what did that toothless mouth look like?” Sairy prodded.

Sairy interrupted his reverie. “How’d you get out of that toothless lunatic’s place?”

At least this way, Z could stall Trepid until he figured out what to do.

Sairy put one finger against her lips and tapped softly, as if she were coaxing more words out of her mouth.

Tiller and Florida had traveled the length of Hidden River and had spent the last two hours portaging into the Goochee River.

“I felt like it was probably going to be me who died next,” Florida said, “and so I wrote my name on my arm in red ink so even if I was delirious with a fever, I’d know who I was, and I told Dallas that even if he couldn’t get me to breathe again, it wouldn’t be his fault. If I didn’t breathe again, it would probably be because I didn’t have any room left for air.”

In the dress department, she wandered from rack to rack, occasionally pulling out a dress and holding it against her. Too dowdy, she thought, or too prissy. And then she saw it: the perfect dress.

In the dress department, she wandered from rack to rack, occasionally pulling out a dress and holding it against her. Too dowdy, she thought, or too prissy. And then she saw it: the perfect dress.

In the dressing room, Mrs. Trepid changed back into her own dress, took out her glasses, and examined the price tag. My goodness, she thought. That much money for a skimpy little dress?

On the outskirts of Prosper City, some fifty miles from Boxton, Mr. Trepid found a Cadillac showroom.

Inside, he circled the three cars on display, casually examining the tags which listed the specifications and equipment, as well as the price, of each vehicle.

Inside, he circled the three cars on display, casually examining the tags which listed the specifications and equipment, as well as the price, of each vehicle.

“I’m considering buying a new car,” Mr. Trepid said soberly.

He’d had the foresight to park it three blocks away so that the salesmen wouldn’t see his battered old car.

“So you’ll be doing a trade-in then?” the salesman asked. “On your Porsche?”
“Probably not,” Mr. Trepid said, smiling heartily at the salesman.

Mr. Trepid had a hundred questions, but he wasn’t going to ask them of this salesman. He didn’t want to appear ignorant.

You might come around a bend and wham! The river suddenly widened out and ran faster. And just when you’d get used to that wide rushing river, you’d go around another bend and wham! It narrowed again and put a few rocks in your way and a few eddies to swirl you around and then maybe a sandbar to stop you short.

The wind and rain whipped against her face, and she loved the feel of it, all of it: the charging down the river, the paddle diving in and out, the water spraying up over the bow, the rain pelting down on her.