Hell. She might see a picture show herself. Or go to the Oil Festival that was being held in honor of what oil had done for Holiday. Which was turn a nice peaceful burg into a mud hole full of thugs and noise and tall metal derricks and too many people rubbing shoulders and no telling what all else against one another.
The whole idea of having a car made Sunset feel as powerful as the gun made her feel. Only better. Free. Was that how men felt all the time?
Or most of them, anyway?
And she had two men who wanted her.
Clyde. Who she didn’t want.
And Hillbilly. Who she sure as hell did want.
But it was great to be wanted after being locked away so much of the time in the house, and when she was wanted by Pete, it was as a punching bag. Punching with his fists. Punching with his penis. No love there and no true want of the sort she cared about.
Things were maybe not wonderful, but they were better than they were when Pete was alive.
If it wasn’t for what it did to Karen, what she was having to deal with, she’d maybe consider shooting a husband every day. It had certainly opened some doors.
Sunset was thinking about all this as she fed Ben out by the big oak beside the road in the near darkness. There was still light but it was fading fast and the light that was there held dust motes in strands so that they looked like tresses of fine blond hair hanging amidst the trees.
Sunset took in a deep breath and savored the taste of the air.
Karen was inside the tent, reading a book. Clyde had relented and given Hillbilly a ride somewhere, then probably gone home to his burned-down house to lie under his tarp.
Sunset was enjoying this time. Just her and the dog. Even being away from Hillbilly and thinking about being with him was in this moment better than being with him. She could let her imagination work overtime.
“Howdy,” said a voice.
Sunset wheeled, dropping the pan in front of Ben, and began pulling her gun from its holster.
Before she could pull it clean, a hand went over hers, a hand larger than both of hers put together, multiplied by two, and with that movement, quicker than sight, the gun was out of her grasp and a colored man with an explosion of head hair and a heavy beard, a man no wider than a log wagon and no taller than a pine, was standing in front of her, holding the gun in the palm of his hand.
Ben wheeled, growling.
“Easy, boy,” the big man said.
Ben stopped growling, whimpered, pushed up against the man’s leg like a cat.
“You ain’t got no cause to worry,” said the colored man. “I ain’t here to hurt you. I come to talk.”
“Bull?”
“That’s right.”
He gave her back her gun. She looked down at Ben. “Some watchdog.”
“Dogs like me,” Bull said. “ ’Specially since I been coming up nights making friends with him. Dog is loyal ’less he likes to eat rabbit entrails. Then he only loyal long as it takes to get him used to eatin’ some every night.”
“So that’s what’s been wrong with his appetite.”
“Me and him are friends now,” Bull said, leaning over to pet Ben on the head. “But he’s a good dog. And a good watchdog for you. I hadn’t had a good heart, he’d have known, and rabbit guts wouldn’t have got him to be friends. Not all dogs know that. Some like rabbit guts no matter who gives them out, but this one ain’t that way.”
“And how do you know?”
“Cause my heart, like his, is good and true.”
“My God. You’re the biggest man I’ve ever seen.”
“My brother was bigger when we was kids. I think he’d have grown to be bigger if he’d growed up, but he got drowned, swimming in the Sabine. I’m seven foot, just so you know. I don’t know what I weigh, but you wouldn’t want me to fall on you.”
“Why have you been making friends with my dog?”
“I been leading him out in the woods a piece. Didn’t want to just come up and have him go at me and didn’t want to frighten you none.”
“Too late for that. You frightened me plenty.”
“You done good by Smoky.”
“I got your note.”
“My talking is a lot better than my writing. I never got no learning or spelling, except what I picked up, so I got to guess at things. Wasn’t even sure I told you what I wanted to tell you-Smoky and me, for a long time, we was like brothers. Then he got a little tetched. He wasn’t bad tetched, but he was tetched. You doing what you did, it ain’t often any whitey does a thing for me or mine, but you did, and I appreciate it. Because of it, I come to tell you something.”
“All right.”
“Brought a jug of shine. It’s on the other side of the tree there, where I been waiting. You up for any?”
“Ain’t never drank any.”
“Can be powerful bad for you, don’t treat it right. But treat it right, it’ll treat you right.”
“Let me get some glasses.”
When Sunset went in the tent, Karen was by the flap.
“Who is that, Mama?”
“A friend.”
“A colored friend?”
“He’s colored and he seems friendly.”
“Are you sure it’s safe? He looks like a giant.”
“He is.”
“He might hurt you.”
“He took my gun away from me and gave it back, so I don’t reckon he’s got plans to hurt me. Bring out a couple chairs so we can sit a spell, and you come on back in the tent.”
“I’m scared with that big man around.”
“There’s a shotgun right there, courtesy of Clyde. You can sit with it if you like.”
Sunset got the glasses and Karen carried two chairs out. Bull was leaning against the oak, holding a small white jug.
“How do you do?” Bull said to Karen.
“I’m fine,” Karen said, and hustled back to the tent.
“She think the big nigger is gonna rape and slaughter y’all, set fire to the tent and eat the dog?”
“Something like that.”
They sat in the chairs and Bull poured them each a little dose of his poison. The dog lay down between them.
Sunset sipped.
“Oh, Jesus,” she said. “It’s like drinking coal oil on fire.”
“But with a sweet smooth aftertaste,” Bull said.
Sunset laughed, held the glass and didn’t sip. Bull, on the other hand, pulled deeply. When he brought the glass down, he said, “There’s all sorts of talk cause you helped Smoky, and it’s white people talk.”
“It’s just talk.”
“Some of it’s Klan talk.”
“I know half the people in the Klan.”
“They talking about correcting you.”
“How do you know?”
“Colored people can be almost like they invisible. Workers, maids, laundry women. They hear things, and it all gets back to Bull.”
“Why do they tell you?”
“Don’t know. Maybe because I ain’t afraid of no white man. Actually, I am, there’s enough of them, but they don’t know that.”
Bull grinned at her. Sunset thought his grin looked a little like a bear baring its teeth.
“Tell you true, missy, ain’t got much use for white folks. Hate them cause they hate me, and I didn’t reckon there was one good one among you.”
“Can I suppose I’m a good one?”
Bull grinned. “You can. And maybe, if you’re good, there’s two good ones. Even three. I won’t figure to think there might be four.”
“There’s really a lot of us.”
“I’m not here cause I’m wanting to suck on whitey’s tit, and I don’t mean yours. I’m here cause I owe you cause of what you done. You may have done it cause of the law, but you done it. That’s something. Go on. Have another sip. It’ll lighten your load.”
Sunset took another sip. It was as if a blazing mothball were flowing down her throat.
“Wow,” she said.
“I get told all kind of things,” Bull said. “Cause I’m the man supplies the drink for the colored folks, and they like to drink, and talk, and drink helps them talk… whatever the reason, it’s a fact. So I’m telling you, watch yourself. There’s people don’t like you cause you’re a woman, same way they don’t like me cause I’m colored. It ain’t got no rhyme or reason. You and me, we got our place and we ain’t staying in it, and there’s plenty don’t like that. They like things where, and in a way, they can count on them. Colored does this, woman does this. We ain’t doing it, and it ain’t going down well. Way they may come for you, cause I think they will, is the Klan. Maybe not. But maybe so. You see someone in a sheet you shoot their sheeted head off. I tell you one thing, them sheets make good targets.”