God's Kingdom Read Online Free PDF Page A

the phrase, but so far as it went he supposed it was true. As long as he was doing the driving, he didn’t really care how much the boys drank.
    *   *   *
    â€œJust Ahead, Second-Longest Covered Bridge in the World.”
    â€œSwing in there, Jimbo,” Harlan said, pointing at the pull-off beyond the sign. “Pit stop.”
    Jim nosed the Ark into the pull-off beside a green trash barrel. He got out and stretched. Across the river in New Hampshire the sun was just coming up behind the White Mountains. While the boys went down to pee in the river, Jim read the historical marker beside the entrance of the bridge:
    THIS COVERED BRIDGE OVER THE UPPER CONNECTICUT RIVER WAS BUILT BY JAMES KINNESON IN 1789. IN 1812, “ABOLITION JIM” RALLIED A CONTINGENT OF LOCAL LOGGERS, TRAPPERS, ABENAKI INDIANS, AND FARMERS AND DECLARED THE INDEPENDENCE OF “GOD’S KINGDOM” FROM VERMONT AND THE UNITED STATES OVER THE ISSUE OF SLAVERY. IN 1842, IN A DAYLONG BATTLE AT THIS BRIDGE, JAMES AND EIGHT OF HIS FELLOW SECESSIONISTS WERE KILLED BY FEDERAL SOLDIERS SENT FROM BOSTON TO PUT DOWN THE INSURRECTION, AND KINGDOM COUNTY WAS DULY REINCORPORATED INTO AMERICA.
    It seemed strange to Jim to read his own name on the marker. It was almost like reading about his own death.
    â€œI guess old James was pretty independent-minded,” Jim said to Charlie.
    Charlie laughed. “He was pretty crazy,” he said. “Now you know where I get it from.”
    â€œWell, looky there, boys,” Harlan said, coming back up the bank tugging at his fly. He pointed at an ad painted in white over the arched entryway of the bridge: “Whittemore’s Country Store, 1 Mile Ahead in Woodsville, N.H. Coldest Beer in the Granite State.”
    â€œThey sell beer at Fenway, Harley,” Charlie said.
    â€œIt’s still early in the forenoon, Charlie K. We’ve got what, seven hours to get there? We’ll put her to a vote.”
    The Knights voted fifteen to two, Charlie and Jim dissenting, to make a beer run to Woodsville. Harlan would direct the Ark across the bridge while Jim drove.
    Harlan walked backward into the bridge, holding his arms out at eye level and waggling his fingers for Jim to come ahead. Suddenly there was an incredibly loud crunching noise, followed by the clatter of falling timbers and beams as the entryway of the second-longest covered bridge in the world collapsed onto the roof of the bus.
    Jim tried to throw the shifting lever into reverse. Instead he hit first again. His Ked slipped off the clutch and the Ark gave a bound forward. Jim twisted the steering wheel to avoid Harlan. The bus smacked into the north wall of the bridge, knocking some boards down into the river. Finally Jim located reverse. The bus bucked sideways and the black shifting knob came off in his hand. The Ark was wedged diagonally across the bridge with its back wheels and three feet of its rear end hanging out over the river.
    Standing in a jackstraw heap of beams and timbers, Harlan nodded. “Yes, sir, gentlemen,” he said.
    â€œOne thing now,” Harlan said as the Knights got out to assess their handiwork. “This ain’t young Jim here’s fault. Nothing would do but we must make a beer run. I was directing. I checked for width but never looked up. This ain’t on Jim’s head.”
    The boys agreed that Jim was in no way responsible for destroying the bridge. Charlie said they should call for a tow truck. He dispatched Cousin Stub Kinneson to a nearby farm on the Vermont side of the river to put in the call. Harlan and the Riendeau brothers volunteered to slope across the river to Whittemore’s Country Store and fetch back a case or two of the coldest beer in the Granite State.
    Jim walked down the bank and stood beside the river. In the deep pool under the bridge a school of suckers flashed their reddish fins as they scavenged their way along the sandy bottom.