Free Going Nowhere Fast by Gar Anthony Haywood

He started to enter the cabin, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him and turn him around.
    " 'Still down there somewhere'? Down where , Theodore?"
    "You know. In the Canyon."
    "In the Canyon?"
    "Yes ma'am." He tried again to go inside, but my hand went right back to his chest to halt him in his tracks.
    "You left your father down at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, Theodore?"
    "He's not at the bottom, Moms. He's about three quarters of the way down. That's as far as he would go before demandin' we turn around and head back up."
    "And you just left him there?"
    "I didn't mean to. But see, there was this mule team on its way down, and I went around it, but he wouldn't. 'Cause, see, the trail's really narrow in places, and he got spooked once when he almost slipped, so—"
    "Go back and get him, Theodore. Right this minute!"
    "But—"
    "Boy, if you're still standing here when I get this shoe off, you and me are gonna be in the news all over again. You understand what I'm saying?"
    I started pulling the shoe off my right foot.
    "Okay, okay! Damn!"
    Bad Dog scurried off.
    "And take him down some water!" I called after him, waving my shoe at his back. When I was sure he was doing as he'd been told, I started back into the cabin, yawning, and kicked my other shoe off, once more drawn inexorably toward my afternoon nap.
    Until, that is, I remembered Ray and Phil.
    Dog hadn't taken three steps down the trail into the Canyon when I caught up with him.
    *     *     *     *
    Several hours later, as I was soothing Big Joe's furrowed brow with a freshly dampened washcloth, I asked him what he thought.
    "I'll tell you what I think," he said, trying mightily to raise his weary head from the pillow on the bed. "I think he thinks there's money to be made in my demise, that's what I think! I think he thinks he's got some kind of inheritance coming when I kick the bucket! But he's in for a rude surprise!"
    "Joe, I'm not talking about Theodore."
    "You hear me, boy? There ain't no profit in killing me, all right? Makin' a widow out of your mother ain't gonna make you so much as one thin dime!"
    Glued as usual to the television set, Bad Dog just sat on the floor at the foot of the bed and said nothing, either too big or too dense to be insulted by his father's accusations. He knew as well as I did that Joe was just blowing off steam. Joe had been tired and dirty when we'd come upon him less than a quarter mile from the top of the Canyon trail, but other than that, he'd been no closer to death than I was. He was in too fine a shape for that. Still, he had been furious, and I for one fully understood why.
    He hadn't liked how Dog had just left him behind down there, like an old cripple too slow for a young pup to wait on.
    Dog hadn't meant it that way, of course, but that's how Joe had taken it nevertheless. I could see the hurt in his eyes all during the climb back up to our cabin. So I'd run a warm bath for him as soon as we walked in, and laid out his favorite pajamas, trying to assuage his wounded pride with a little old-fashioned wifely nurturing. I knew it wouldn't quiet him completely, but I suspected it might reduce his griping to a mere grumble in an hour or so, and I was right. The big baby wasn't doing anything more now than thinking out loud, no real sting left in his tone.
    For some men, bellyaching was therapeutic.
    "Joe, enough about Theodore. I'm talking about those reporters. Phil and Ray."
    "What about 'em?"
    "Well, for one thing, I don't really think they were reporters. You heard how they were dressed."
    "Yeah."
    "And that camera the one named Phil had. Who ever heard of a newspaper photographer taking pictures for his paper with a fifteen-dollar Instamatic camera?"
    Joe considered the question carefully, then nodded his head. "Okay. So they weren't reporters. What do you figure they were?"
    "Baby, I was hoping you could tell me. You're the ex-policeman, not me."
    He nodded his head again, seeing my point. "Well,