Way Down Deep Read Online Free PDF Page A

except for Ruby. She was scratching a mosquito bite in that hollow place behind her knee.
    â€œYou mean one five and five ones,” she corrected the sheriff.
    He turned back to Shelby. “What did I say?”
    When Shelby didn’t answer, Ruby volunteered, “You said one one and five fives.”
    â€œDid I?” the sheriff bellowed, and slapped his thigh. “I meant one five and five ones. Bet y’all thought I was trying to pull a fast one, didn’t you? Trying to rob the bank or something!” And he laughed so hard, his face turned red and he began to cough.
    Shelby, seeing the brown bag half-full of money right there in front of her, retrieved the requested bills from it and passed them to the sheriff, replacing them with his ten-dollar bill.
    The sheriff pocketed the money, said thanks, and left, still laughing at his own blunder, and muttering, “One one and five fives. Lordy mercy!”
    The door closed behind him.
    With the law gone, Mr. Dales placed a hand on the stranger’s shoulder and asked, “What’s your name, son?”
    The man’s eyes moved sideways to look at the hand.
    â€œBob,” he squeaked. “Bob Reeder.”
    â€œWell, Bob Reeder, I know you did not really mean to rob this bank.”
    To which Bob Reeder answered in a decidedly biblical manner. “My friends, deep despair has befallen me, and I was sorely tempted into transgression.”
    He paused and looked around at all the various colors of puzzled eyes watching him. He saw no meanness there, so he continued.
    â€œTo put it another way, I am riding high on the crest of a slump.”
    He paused again and wiped his eyes with his T-shirt sleeve.
    â€œYou see, me and my good wife, Pearl, were married for thirteen years, and produced five of the finest offspring who ever breathed. And life was good. But then . . .”
    He put his face in his hands. “Well . . . you see,” he mumbled through his fingers, “my Pearl left this life six months ago.”
    His voice quivered. There were sympathetic sounds in the room as many reached out to touch the grieving man.
    Bob heaved a weary sigh and sprawled into one of the genuine leatherette chairs Mr. Dales kept there in the lobby.
    â€œThat was only the beginning of my troubles,” he went on. “Next, my old daddy’s brain got so addled, he couldn’t tell you the year if he had to. He lives more in the past than the present. Naturally, I took him in so me and the kids could look after him.
    â€œThen my oldest boy, Peter, started catching the tonsilitis every time the weather changed. So his tonsils had to come out, and the doctor bills were awful. Then—”
    â€œYour boy’s name is Peter Reeder?” Ruby interrupted him.
    Bob nodded and went on. “My second oldest boy, Cedar, started acting like a reg’lar juvenile delinquent, always cussing and acting up soooo bad at school. He makes me ashamed.”
    â€œCedar Reeder?” Ruby mumbled, but Bob Reeder paid her no attention.
    â€œAnd there’s my baby Rita, poor little tyke. She’s five, and has not uttered one syllable since her mama died. I just thank the Lord for my nine-year-old twins, Jeeter and Skeeter. They don’t give me a lick of trouble.
    â€œIf that was not enough,” he continued, “I lost my job at the sawmill. Now I can’t feed and clothe any of them proper.”
    â€œWhere might you be from, Mr. Reeder?” Mr. Dales said.
    â€œY’all call me Bob, heah? I’m from Yonder Mountain. Ever heard of it?”
    â€œOh, sure, heard of it. Never been there. It’s over in Virginia, isn’t it?”
    â€œYeah, just barely.”
    â€œHow’d you get to Way Down, Bob?”
    â€œOn the bus.”
    â€œAnd how were you planning to get away after robbing our bank?”
    â€œOn the bus,” Bob said.
    Bob’s listeners were too polite to say what