The storm slashed and the wind howled and I fell asleep to horizontal rain pelting the old house like a thousand miniature drummers working out a beat on the siding. I woke just as the first flush of morning began to fill the dark spaces of my room. There was a gray form on the floor in the middle of the rug. It looked as if Pops had brought the packs upstairs and covered them in a blanket. It made no sense. I put both feet on the floor to investigate. The boards creaked and the packs moved. I pulled off the blanket.
It was Buzzy Fink, soaking wet and filthy and looking as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. A purple-and-yellow bruise spread from his left eye down to his cheek—a half-healed scab on his lower lip. He was shivering.
“What are you doing here?” I threw the blanket back to him. He yawned, sat up, and wrapped it around himself. “How did you get in?”
“This is Medgar. Nobody locks doors here.”
“Pops does, every night.”
“Well, he dint last night.”
“Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over the mountains for you.”
“Tellin Cave. Then Tilroy came, so I left.”
“Tilroy? Did he see you?”
“Yup. Saw me as I ran outta there.”
“Why didn’t you just sleep at the tree house?”
“That’s the first place Cleo would look.”
“You mean Tilroy?”
Buzzy shook his head. “I ain’t afraid a Tilroy; it’s Cleo who’s after me. Tole everyone in the holler that I’m jealous a him so I accused him a beatin up Mr. Paul.”
“Is that how you got those bruises?”
He nodded but didn’t look at me. “Cle caught me in the barn an jus pounded on me. I got away an tole him I was goin to the sheriff. Then I grabbed some stuff an jus lit.”
“Did you tell the sheriff?”
“Naw, I jus said that cause the beatin.”
“Look, me and Pops are leaving this morning to go up to that lake he likes. Up in the mountains. You gotta come with us.”
“I don’t know, man. I may jus head south. Maybe go to Florida.”
“That’s bullshit. You can’t just run away like that.”
“Ain’t got a better option.”
“Come with us. We’ll be gone two weeks. All this crap will blow over by then.”
“I don’t know. I think I better jus head out.” He stood up and collected his saturated pack. There was a light tap at the door; it opened slowly. Pops was standing with a steaming coffee cup.
“Looks like you’ve been living rough, son,” he said softly.
Buzzy looked out the window at the coming blue sky and the first glint of sun in a week coloring the valley. “It ain’t rough, really. Jus a little wet.”
Pops studied Buzzy for a few moments and took a sip of coffee. “Why don’t we all go down to the kitchen and drink something warm?”
We followed him down the steps and into the kitchen, where he had a pot of coffee at the ready. He poured two cups, refilled his, and joined us at the table. Buzzy fidgeted with his drink. Pops said nothing, just watched him intently with his wise old eyes. More silence and fidgeting.
Finally Buzzy spoke. “He dint do nuthin.”
“Tell me what you saw, son.”
“You gotta swear you ain’t gonna tell no one.”
“Buzzy, I can’t make that promise. A man has been beaten to death.”
“I’ll deny everthin.”
“Lying is no way to go through life. I’d rather you not tell me, then.”
Buzzy looked into his coffee and rubbed the side of the cup. Pops continued to fix into him, his forehead creases deepening as the silence stretched seconds to minutes.
“It was Tilroy what done it,” Buzzy said without looking up from the black coffee.
“What?” Pops sat back, as if pushed there by the rapid acceleration of a car. “Tilroy’s just a kid. He and Paul were friends. You sure it was Tilroy?”
Buzzy nodded quickly. “Cleo was there too… an some others. He tried to stop it all. I seen him try to stop it.” He was pleading to his cup now. “It ain’t like theys gonna take away his ride for this. He tried to stop it all.”
Pops raised his chin slowly on the understanding of things. He rubbed his neck with his hand. “And that’s why you’ve been staying up in the mountains this past week. So you wouldn’t have to deal with any of this at home.”
“I think Buzzy should come on the Tramp with us. Give all this time to blow over,” I interjected.
Pops put a hand up to quiet me and just kept looking at Buzzy. “First thing we need to do is call your parents to let them know you’re okay. Then we’ll see what our options are.”
Pops excused himself, went into his den, and closed the door. Five minutes later he came out and sat back down at the table. “Your mom was starting to worry over you.”
“Did you tell her bout Cleo?”
Pops shook his head. “We need to think this all through first. One thing is for sure: you are gonna have to talk to Sheriff Binner.”
Buzzy finally looked up from his drink and grimaced as if the brew was poisoning him. He nodded and whispered, “I know.”
“But maybe not right away,” Pops said. “Who else knows about this?”
“Petunia Wickle, Skeeter Bight, Levona Stiles. Tilroy’s been big talkin round town, actin like a regular man-killer.”
“Boy might as well put an ad in the newspaper. Sheriff Binner is competent law. I suspect he’ll have Tilroy in for a talk in the next few days.” Pops thought for a moment more. “Let’s all head out on the Tramp, relax up at Glaston, and reevaluate when we return. I think this whole business will come out while we are gone. Secrets this big don’t stay kept.”
I smiled at Buzzy. He managed a slight grin.
“Let’s go put your clothes in the dryer,” I said. “You don’t want wet clothes up there.”