Free Unraveled by Reavis Z Wortham

feeding on the anger that was a steady ache in his chest. The odor of death found his nostrils and he peered inside a bucket sitting on the porch to find it half full of water with a rotting rat carcass floating on top. The Wraith had an idea and built a real smile for the first time in days.
    ***
    Ned steered his Plymouth down the dirt road between high cut banks. A hardwood canopy laced overhead, cooling the thick, wet evening air.
    Deputy John Washington rode in the passenger seat with his big arm hanging out the open window. The sleeve rolled above his elbow looked as if it would split at the seams from the pressure of his biceps. “I cain’t believe that boy’s back with y’all.”
    â€œI wouldn’t have believed it, neither. Them kinfolk of his decided they were tired of feedin’ him.”
    â€œY’all gonna raise him?”
    â€œYep. O.C. said he’d draw up the papers so nobody can take him again.”
    â€œMr. Ned, you’re gonna have a houseful of young’uns, and at your age.”
    â€œDon’t I know it. They’ll be the death of me before they’re grown.”
    John’s wide smile split his face. “That’ll be good for Top. He needs a boy around to put some bark on ’im.”
    â€œI’m more worried about Pepper than anything else. She’s got eyes for Mark, so I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”
    â€œThey’re gonna be kids.”
    â€œThat’s what worries me. Listen, if these Mayfields swell up, you step in and cool ’em off.”
    â€œThey’ll most likely not say much. They’re grieving right now. The only ones that might give us trouble are a couple of the younger folks, but I expect their elders’ll calm ’em down.”
    The .38 on his belt, the sap in his back pocket, and the pump shotgun on the seat between them didn’t help Ned’s unease as they turned off the dirt road and rolled slowly down a two-lane track to the Mayfield house that was in direct contrast to the Clay place. “Here we are.”
    The unpainted, rambling house had seen better days. It squatted in a clearing surrounded by thick woods on three sides and a pasture on the other. Two tall sycamores shaded the dirt yard. A tire swing hung still in the dead air. Rusting screens, their holes stuffed with rags, barely kept bugs and critters out.
    Two dozen cars and trucks were parked haphazardly in the dirt yard. The front porch was full of people. An elderly black couple carried foil-covered dishes across the yard and into the house.
    John got out first and threw a hand up in a wave. Most waved back. Several faces closed up when Ned appeared from behind the wheel. He threaded his way between the cars, watching a mixed pack of dogs rush up to smell his pants legs.
    They stopped short of the steps. Tilting the straw hat back on his head, Ned found Hollis Mayfield sitting in a tired rocking chair to the right of the door. “Hollis. I’m sorry for your loss.”
    The old white-haired man rocked slowly in the shade. Two women who appeared to be in their twenties moved closer to him, as if for protection. He plucked at the galluses on his soft, faded duckins. “Constable. John. How y’all doin’?”
    Big John propped one foot on a lower step and leaned on his knee. “Fair to middlin’. I sure am sorry about Maggie. She was some punkin’.”
    Hollis gave him a weak smile. “She was a ring-tailed tooter, all right.”
    A thick middle-aged woman in her Sunday clothes came outside and handed him a sweating mason jar full of sweet tea. “Here Daddy. Supper’ll be ready in a little bit.”
    â€œThank you, baby.” Chipped ice tinkled against the glass as Hollis drained half the quart jar in one long draught. “You gentlemen care for some sweet tea?”
    â€œNo thanks.” Ned shook his head.
    John wiped sweat that trickled down his cheek in the