Free Long Black Curl by Alex Bledsoe

got a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.
    â€œYou could just point me toward the road,” she said, trying to sound casual. No matter who she was or how many secrets she carried, a bullet would kill her just like anything else alive.
    â€œThe nearest road’s two miles away,” he said. “And you’re fifteen miles from your house.”
    She blinked in surprise. Fifteen miles? She couldn’t possibly have walked that far. Either she’d slipped into fae time without realizing it, which ought to be impossible, or the night winds had blown her here on purpose. Still, she thought wryly, better than nine hundred miles from home.
    She held back her hair from her face and studied him. He didn’t look dangerous, and she got no sense that he meant her harm. Perhaps he didn’t. But his family, seeing the head of the First Daughters walk into their house, might feel otherwise.
    â€œI know who you are,” he said quietly, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. “In case you were wondering. But it’s okay. My folks won’t hurt you.”
    â€œYou a mind reader, too?”
    â€œI just figure that’s what I’d be thinking if I was in your shoes.”
    â€œIf you were in my shoes, you’d be wishing you’d worn boots,” she said with a smile.
    He smiled back. “Come on, let’s get out of here. Mom’ll make us some hot chocolate.”
    She followed him through the snow, the big dog dancing around them both.

 
    6
    The convenience store door closed behind Junior Damo as he stomped his feet to dislodge the snow. The old man behind the counter, dressed in the chain’s bright orange and blue shirt, looked up from reading Entertainment Weekly. His name tag read TIRRELL .
    â€œJunior, what’re you doing out in this weather?” he asked. “Loretta finally kick you out?”
    â€œNah, I’m on my way home to her, that’s why I need me some beer,” Junior said. He went to the cooler, nearly knocked over the WET FLOOR sign, and pulled a twelve-pack of Miller Lite from the rack. “Hey, you ain’t seen any of the Hickses around, have you?”
    â€œWe’re all hicks, son,” Tirrell said with a grin, displaying the gap where two of his bottom teeth were missing.
    â€œDidn’t you teach college once?”
    â€œI did, but they don’t give tenure to hicks.”
    â€œWell, I meant the Hicks family. Rockhouse, Stoney, Jewel, Mason, any of them.”
    â€œWell, you know what happened to Rockhouse.
    â€œOf course,” Junior said, trying to sound blas é . After all the time he spent on the road, he’d forgotten just how fast the Tufa telegraph traveled. In the time it took him to get from the mountain to town, everyone in the county probably knew about it. And ever since that Collins woman stabbed him in the dick two summers ago, Stoney just sits around moping. He weighs three hundred pounds these days, so he don’t come to town much. Ain’t seen Jewel since he got married. Mason got some gas this morning, but he didn’t come in. Why you looking for them?”
    â€œJust want to see about hunting some squirrels,” Junior said as he ran his debit card through the machine. “You see any of ’em, tell ’em to call me.”
    â€œI ain’t your message boy, Junior.”
    Junior scowled at him. “Really? That’s your attitude? Somebody asks you to do something as simple as pass on a message if you see somebody, something that don’t even require you getting up off that stool, and you cain’t be bothered? No wonder you didn’t get that ten-four or whatever the hell it was.”
    â€œMan, what bug crawled up your ass and died?” Tirrell said.
    â€œYou. And every single damn one of us. We don’t do a damn thing to help each other out. We won’t even pass on a fucking message if there’s nothing in it for