Dark River Road Read Online Free PDF

show that Chantry had seen a few times that had a kid like Chris on it. Every time he saw Eddie Haskell talking to Beaver’s mom he thought of Chris Quinton. They even looked a lot alike, as far as he could tell in black and white. And both of them were suck-ups.
    Mama answered Chris politely, and then gave Chantry a little nudge with her hand. When they walked away from the church, Chantry helping Mikey down the steps when he insisted on doing it himself, he felt Chris staring at them. Cinda may be only thirteen and his first cousin, but Chris acted more like she was his girlfriend. Maybe Quintons married their own cousins. That’d sure explain a lot.

CHAPTER 3
     
    Dempsey was home when Chantry walked over to his house that afternoon, sitting out on his sagging front porch repairing a fishing net. Gnarled hands worked efficiently despite being bony and distorted from years of hard work, thick fingers weaving together small lines of hemp to close up a hole.
    “Got it caught on a sunken log,” Dempsey said when Chantry sat down on the top step to watch. “Lost a big ole cat that woulda tasted mighty good in my fryin’ pan.”
    Dempsey’s favorite meal was fried catfish and hushpuppies, and he knew just how to fry it up so it was flaky and tender without being tough no matter the size or age of the fish. He liked river catfish, not farm grown ones that had all the taste bred out of them, he said. Dempsey spent any free time on his john boat out in the river shoals where the strong current wouldn’t carry him off downstream. He knew a lot about the river and a lot about planting stuff, too. Dempsey was probably the smartest man Chantry knew, but not book smart. He’d only gone to sixth grade.
    He wasn’t real tall but he’d always seemed big to Chantry, with wise eyes that seemed to see everything. His hair was short, wiry, and had streaks of gray, but his face was curiously unlined. Only around the eyes did he show his age.
    “What’cha got on your mind, Chantry?” he asked when he set aside the net and got them both a Mason jar of iced tea from the house. “Come to see me, or Tansy?”
    “You.” Chantry waited until Dempsey sat down again in the wooden rocker. It creaked on the cypress planks of the porch. He rubbed the slick side of the tea jar with his thumb and looked up at the old man. “Rainey got a dog.”
    “Yeah, so I heard.”
    That didn’t surprise Chantry. Dempsey heard everything. He said it was because he kept his mouth shut and his ears open, but Chantry thought part of the reason was some white people in Cane Creek said whatever they wanted in front of him, figuring he didn’t much count since he was only an old black man.
    “She had nine pups last night. The last one, it’s so little. A male. The others keep pushing it out of the way.” Chantry paused, not sure how to continue.
    “And you want to save it.”
    He nodded. “Yeah.”
    “Can’t save everything, boy.”
    “I know. But I can save this one. Tell me how.”
    Dempsey pursed his lips, rocked back and forth a few times. “What’s ole Rainey say?”
    “The pups are worth three hundred each. He won’t want to lose one.”
    “Hm.” Dempsey’s skepticism was obvious. Not that Chantry blamed him. Rainey often did inexplicable things. After rocking a few more times, Dempsey said, “Need bitches milk for it to get enough. Feed it six, seven times a day yourself until it gets strong enough to make it on his own. Might make it, might not.”
    “Where do I get the milk?” Chantry had a sudden vision of trying to milk Belle like a cow or goat. That’d be weird.
    “Buy it. Vets have it. It’s cheapest in powder, but comes in cans too.”
    “Oh. So, Doc Malone would have it?”
    “Yeah, most likely. I might have an old can of it here somewhere from when I raised beagle pups. I’ll look for it. Won’t last long, but should get you through until Malone opens his doors tomorrow.” He set his iced tea on his knee, fingers