by Tim Bryant
What I got out of that was Momma loved Lonnie Boy. She never came right out and said it, but she did say something else that day, and it was something I never thought I would hear. I didn’t ask her anything about it, and, anyway, she was really talking to the Sheriff’s daughter. If she hadn’t been there, it never would have passed Momma’s lips.
“I know everybody tells stories. I never did believe in telling stories. Way I look at it, people should keep things to themselves. But I will tell you this, and someday you’ll know why. Your uncle was probably too young to been there in Mineral Wells on the day they killed Lonnie Curridge. It was just an ordinary afternoon. Hotter than today, but, other than that, just a day. I was young and starving for excitement, and Lonnie had that in spades. He promised all kinds of things, and I was too dumb to see through it. If your uncle was right here, these words would never leave my mouth, but I was part of the Lonnie Curridge gang. When they printed stories about Lonnie getting killed that afternoon, there was two others that also got killed. Sam Pratt and Ollie Chambers. I knew both of them too. There was one other that got away, and they never did put a name or face to that one. Well, it was me, and you know what? I walked right out of that goddamn building and said hello to the copper standing there with his gun drawn. Wanna know what he said to me?”
I did, but I could scarcely catch my breath. I knew I was hearing something I’d never heard before and might not hear again.
“Scram, kid, before you get yourself hurt.”
I heard that answer one way there on the porch, but looking at it scrawled in my notebook a day later, I read it another way. I knew, at that moment, Lonnie Boy had been holed up in the Bank & Trust, still alive, still a real part of her world. Scramming at that moment meant turning around and leaving the rest of the Lonnie Curridge gang to their fate. It meant escaping.
“If she hadn’t had that chance, if she hadn’t taken it, I wouldn’t be sitting here today,” I said to Slant Face and James Alto at Peechie Keen’s Bar & Kanteen. We were playing Cheat! and I was catching them both up on things.
“I think I like your mother better than I like you,” Alto said.
Momma wanted me to buy the house and property on Clear Fork, and I thought about it. It seemed too much like buying back old memories. I couldn’t get the old family home in Cool out of my head though. A couple days later, I drove back out there. WBAP was playing a brand new tune from Bob Wills & The Texas Playboys called “I’ve Got A New Road Under My Wheels,” and they were talking to band members Leon Rauch and Billy Bowman about upcoming shows in Oklahoma and then at the Crystal Ballroom.
“Bob always likes coming to Texas,” Leon said, “and the Fort Worth crowds are his favorites.”
Some things might never change, but I couldn’t help feeling the tug of time. Bob Wills might love the Fort Worth crowds, but he had to have noticed that they were getting smaller. Older. He’d probably keep right on loving them until they dwindled to one, and then that one would die, and that would be it. By then, the Hank Snows of the world would be lucky to open up for the Elvis Presleys. There would be new roads opening up everywhere.
I stopped at the store on the highway and told that girl behind the counter she might be seeing more of me. Even she had heard about me discovering the stockpile under the house in Cuneytown. Said she had been hearing all kinds of things about Hoot Castrie.
“Heard that negro man might be the biggest outlaw since Jesse James,” she said. “You really know him?”
I threw a carton of cigarettes and a case of beer on the counter and counted out a handful of bills.
“Biggest outlaw since the Lonnie Curridge gang,” I said. “And yeah, I’ve known him and them too.”
It was time for a move, and Cool, Texas seemed like the right move to make. I decided I would make the Dearbohns an offer they couldn’t refuse. I knew they needed money more than they needed that old house at the end of the road. I would fix the floor in the kitchen. Might plant some tomatoes or onions and peppers or something. And I would be close by when Starletta wanted to talk. You never knew what might happen next. Hell, I might even decide to put the Lonnie Curridge gang back together.
About the Author
Tim Bryant published his first novel DUTCH CURRIDGE in 2010, and followed it with two more in the series: SOUTHERN SELECT in 2013 and SPIRIT TRAP in 2014. He was named one of the Top Five Texas Authors of 2014 by BookPeople in Austin, TX. His fifth novel CONSTELLATIONS was released by Behooven Press in April of 2015. His short story "Doll's Eyes" was included in Subterranean Press' IMPOSSIBLE MONSTERS anthology.
Tim also writes and records music, having recently released the album "New Endings For Old Stories" by his band Rise And Run.
You can find his heart in the Texas Hill Country, but he lives in a little house in Nacogdoches with his wife Leela, their kids Molly and Jackson and a dog named Bowie.
Read more at Tim Bryant’s site.
