Free Wish You Well by David Baldacci Page A

was not inclined to go on.
    Louisa finished with a plate first and set it down to dry. “Eugene’s mother die young. Tom left the baby with his sister here and went on over to Bristol, Tennessee, for work. He a coal miner here, but lot of folks started coming round to do that too, and they always let the Negroes go first. He got kilt in an accident afore he could send for Eugene. When Eugene’s aunt passed on, I took him in. The other’s just lies by folks who have hate in their hearts.”
    “Does Eugene know?”
    “Course he does! I told him when he were old enough.”
    “So why don’t you tell people the truth?”
    “People don’t want’a listen, ain’t no good what you try tell ’em.” She shot Lou a glance. “Unnerstand me?”
    Lou nodded, but in truth she wasn’t convinced she did.

 
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
    When Lou went outside, she saw Diamond and Oz over by the split-rail corral where the horse was grazing. When Diamond saw Lou, he pulled a sheet of paper and a tin of tobacco out of his pocket, rolled the smoke, licked it closed, struck a match against a rail, and lit up.
    Oz and Lou both gaped, and she exclaimed, “You’re too young to do that.”
    Diamond casually waved off her protest, a pleased smile on his face. “Aww, I all growed up. Man a man.”
    “But you’re not much older than me, Diamond.”
    “Different up here, you see.”
    “Where do you and your family live?” asked Lou.
    “On down the road a piece afore you get somewhere.”
    Diamond pulled a cover-less baseball from his pocket and tossed it. Jeb raced after the ball and brought it back.
    “Man give me that ball ’cause I tell him his future.”
    “What was his future?” asked Lou.
    “That he gonna give a feller named Diamond his old ball.”
    “It’s getting late,” Lou said. “Won’t your parents be getting worried?”
    Diamond stubbed out the homemade smoke on his overalls and stuck it behind his ear as he wound up to throw again. “Naw, like I say, all growed up. Ain’t got to do nothing if’n don’t want to.”
    Lou pointed to something dangling on Diamond’s overalls. “What’s that?”
    Diamond looked down and grinned. “Left hind foot of a graveyard rabbit. Aside fur heart’a calf, luckiest thing they is. Shoot, don’t they school you nuthin’ in the city?”
    “A graveyard rabbit?” Oz said.
    “Yessir. Caught and kilt in graveyard in black of night.” He slipped the foot off its string and gave it to Oz. “Here, son, I always get me ’nuther, anytime I want I can.”
    Oz held it reverently. “Gosh, thanks, Diamond.”
    Oz watched Jeb race after the ball. “Jeb sure is a good dog. Gets that ball every time.”
    When Jeb brought the ball and dropped it in front of Diamond, he picked it up and tossed it over to Oz. “Prob’ly ain’t much room to throw nuthin’ in the city, but give it a whirl, son.”
    Oz stared at the ball as though he’d never held one. Then he glanced at Lou.
    “Go ahead, Oz. You can do it,” she said.
    Oz wound up and threw the ball, his arm snapping like a whip, and that ball sprang forth from his small hand like a freed bird, soaring higher and higher. Jeb raced after it, but the dog wasn’t gaining any ground. An astonished Oz just stared at what he’d done. Lou did the same.
    The cigarette fell off a startled Diamond’s ear. “God dog, where’d you learn to toss like that?”
    Oz could only offer up the wonderful smile of a boy who had just realized he might be athletically gifted. Then he turned and raced after the ball. Lou and Diamond were silent for a bit and then the ball came sailing back. In the gathering darkness they couldn’t even see Oz yet, but they could hear him and Jeb coming, a total of six spirited legs flying at them.
    “So what do you do for excitement in this place, Diamond?” asked Lou.
    “Fishing mostly. Hey, you ever skinny-dip in a gravel pit?”
    “There are no gravel pits in New York City. Anything else?”
    “Well”—he