1
Peter
Peter Reynolds tossed the last fifty-pound bag of grain onto the flatbed Ford truck and sat down on the wooden sidewalk to catch his breath. It was hot and muggy and no breeze. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He jumped when a cold shock touched his bare neck.
“Sorry, Pete,” Sam Ferguson, the police chief, said. “Didn’t mean to startle you none. Just thought you might be needin’ a nice cold soda.” He held out a frosty bottle.
Peter nodded to the police chief and accepted the bottle. He took a long swallow. Jesus, that tasted good. Peter smiled at the chief. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Time to take a breather, Pete.” The chief took off his police cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Even a young man such as you needs to rest now and then. You mind if I sit with you for a spell?”
Peter wordlessly shook his head affirmatively. For seventeen years he had never uttered a sound.
Sam grunted as he lowered his massive frame onto the sidewalk next to Peter. He sighed heavily. “It feels good to get off these aching feet, if only for a bit.”
“Let me tell you, Pete,” he chuckled. “If I wasn’t on duty, I think I’d go skinny dipping down at the old mill. Yes, sir. That’s exactly what I’d do.” He took a swallow of his own soda and smiled at the cooling thought.
Peter couldn’t picture this big man skinny-dipping. Seeing him naked wasn’t something he really wanted to think about anyway. He closed his eyes, rolling the cold bottle back and forth between his hands.
“God-a-mighty,” the chief went on. “It feels good to get off these dogs. Pete, you won’t believe what that fool mayor’s got me doin’ now. Look at these.” He held up a brown bag that was stuffed with yellow papers. “He told me to nail these things on every pole between here and Doeville. I been passin’ out more of these fool things than I been writin’ tickets.”
He drained the bottle of soda and set it down. “I told him there ain’t a soul here-abouts who don’t already know about the Johnson County Academic Fair anyways. They don’t need any remindings. Besides, the dang thing ain’t for another six months.” He lowered his voice, leaning closer to Peter. “Just between you and me, Pete. I burned about half these things last night. Made a nice fire too.”
Sam sat up and attempted to look official, policeman-like. “So tell me, boy. What you been up to lately? Never mind. I know you can’t talk. So let me tell you the stupid thing that wife of mine, Laretha, has gone and pulled now. Between that woman and the mayor, they’re gonna send me to the loony farm. I come home last night all tuckered out, and you know what I find? Well, let me tell you, boy. I—”
