Free The Rivers Webb by Jeremy Tyler

find ’em all the time. In these tangles. Now, if the coon were a piece of wood or somebody’s old hat, it’d just float the river nice as can be. But that old river, it’s got a kinda claim on the dead, and it’ll pull ’em down into those tangles, sometimes days at a time, ’til it decides they had enough, then the current’ll switch off a little ways, and let ’em go.” With that, Earl tossed the ragged body back into the river, where it bobbed up and down, then was swept back under.
    As noisy as the river was, it felt silent. John pondered a moment, thinking about his poor Uncle Carl, caught amongst those cypress knees and sunken tree limbs at the bottom of the river.
    Earl sat back down in the boat, pushed off of the bramble with the hook, then started the motor again. John didn’t have any more questions. At least, not for Earl.
    â€œDan, can I ask you something?”
    Dan nodded briefly.
    â€œIt’s probably a sticky subject, so I haven’t asked anyone in the family…but there’s one thing that’s been bugging me since I got here.”
    This managed to break through some of Dan’s reserve; he turned to face him full.
    â€œGeorge Rivers,” John said.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œHis last name is Rivers.”
    A wide smile crossed Dan’s lips as realization dawned upon him.
    â€œYou’re wondering what kind o’ shameful little secret must be lurkin’ behind that? Well, you’ll be disappointed. Wilhelmina Rivers was married right and proper, before little George was conceived.”
    â€œSo, why doesn’t he bear his father’s name?” John asked.
    Dan looked downriver for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
    â€œGeorge Wamble was, from what I’ve been told, one of the bravest and most trusted men in all o’ Coweta County. Like Wilhelmina, he came from a family of means, but he always seemed to hold the community above himself. A very civic minded man, he was one o’ the first to volunteer for overseas duty durin’ the Great War, even though he’d just been married only four months earlier. He never came back.”
    â€œSo George never knew his father.”
    â€œNo. And Wilhelmina never forgave him for choosing a war half a world away above her. When she received the news of his death, she changed her name back to Rivers. Little George was born just a few weeks later. George Rivers.”
    John gave some serious consideration to what this revelation meant. It told him a great deal about the kind of person Wilhelmina was. He wasn’t sure if it would help him with the bigger questions, but he had a hunch it might. He remained silent until they reached Grandpappy Island.
    Once there, however, he didn’t need to concern himself with conversation. Earl stayed in the boat, staunchly refusing to set foot on that island with such “hateful memories,” as he put it. Dan set to the task of searching along the beach, as though there was anything there to find. So John was left alone to take in the whole scene of it all, drinking in the magnificent view of the rolling Georgia hills that made up the backdrop against which the Parrott River proudly displayed itself.
    Cynical as he was, John was affected by the simple beauty and stark simplicity of it all. Of course, not so affected that he failed to notice things, such as the way Earl kept shifting around in his handmade boat to try and shake the bad feelings he had for this place. And of course, he kept an eye out for Dan, who at first glance was simply being drastically overzealous in the pursuit of post-crime evidence. But John always relied on more than just his first impressions. So he watched. After just a few moments, John began to see it.
    Dan was smarter than John had given him credit for, he had already started to see that, but now he was beginning to see the depth of it. Dan Merrill, while looking intently at the surroundings,