Free The Promise of Jesse Woods by Chris Fabry

said.
    “It’s worth a lot more, but I’ll sell it to you for ten dollars.”
    Jesse’s mouth dropped. “Ten?”
    “That’s highway robbery,” Dickie said.
    “It ain’t neither,” the man said, crossing his arms. “If you knew what I paid, you’d think different.”
    “I don’t care what you paid for it,” Jesse said. “I’m looking at what it’s worth.”
    “A thing is worth what somebody will pay. And ten is the price. So that’s what it’s worth.”
    Jesse shook her head. “It ain’t worth ten dollars.”
    The man put a hand to his stubbly cheek. “Then what are you willing to pay?”
    “I got two dollars,” Jesse said.
    The man laughed. “Well, there’s a big ditch between what you got and what I want.” He stared at Dickie’s hair, then back at Jesse. “You from back in the hollow?”
    She nodded.
    “I thought so. You’re a Woods, ain’t you?”
    She raised her chin at him as if expecting a fight.
    With a tenderness in his voice I didn’t expect, he said, “I was at the tracks the day your daddy lost his arm.”
    I glanced at Jesse but she was inspecting the bike.
    “How long ago did he run off?” the man said.
    Jesse didn’t look at him. “It’s been a while.”
    “I expect it has been.”
    Jesse searched for words and came up with “You got a pump?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You got something to pump up the tires?”
    “Sure.” He went to his shed and came back with a black pump. Jesse took it and started on the front tire, pumping the handle up and down until the tire inflated.
    “What did they do with it?” Jesse said to the man.
    “What did they do with what?”
    “His arm. I always wondered. Did they take it to the hospital with him? Just load it into the ambulance?”
    “There wasn’t no ambulance. We tied the stump off with some sea grass off a bale of hay in the field across the tracks. Then we flagged down Shorty Childers, who was passing by, and loaded him onto Shorty’s flatbed. He drove him to Cabell Huntington. I was surprised he didn’t bleed out. It was bad.”
    Jesse unhooked the pump from the tire and a slow hissing came from several spots. She looked at the man, then moved to the back tire and pumped. “But what happened to the arm? The bottom half?”
    He scratched his chin. “Come to think of it, we never picked it up that I know of. The train had stopped by then and it was somewhere underneath, I guess. Buzzards likely got it.”
    Jesse nodded and unhooked the pump. The front tire was flat again and the back tire was headed the same direction.
    She handed back the pump. “Mister, I was taught that somebody’s word is about all he has. If you can’t count on a man’s word, you can’t count on nothing. Now you toldme I could pump this thing up and ride it to Charleston. I wouldn’t get to the feed store, and that’s downhill and around the corner.”
    He looked surprised and a little apologetic. “Well, they were fine the last time I pumped them up. It appears I was wrong.”
    Jesse shook her head, waved a hand, and walked toward the street.
    The man raised his voice. “Look, I’m sorry about your daddy running out. How’s your mama ’n’ ’em doin’?”
    She stopped and without turning said, “They’s all right.”
    His eyes looked sad and he ran his tongue around his yellowing teeth. “You had a sister, didn’t you?”
    “Her sister is Daisy Grace,” Dickie said.
    “No, I mean an older sister. What was her name?”
    “Eva,” Jesse said.
    He thought a moment more and then put his hands on his hips like he had made a final decision about which door to take on Let’s Make a Deal . “I’ll tell you what, I’ll let it go for five dollars.”
    “I told you, I only have two.”
    Dickie shrugged, pulling out empty pockets.
    “I’ve got three left,” I said.
    Jesse looked at me, then pulled two crumpled dollar bills out and took mine. “Two and three make five. You got yourself a deal, mister.”
    Jesse pushed the squeaky