The Longest Road Read Online Free Page A

it would be. Would he go to hell? Would Mama and Daddy ever know what had happened to him? He told lies to get out of whippings and sometimes, in his room, he and Tom MacKay showed each other their things and played with them, seeing whose got biggest. Once a rabbit had just one little boil and he’d cut it away and sold it to Mr. Haynes. He’d stolen and smoked one of Floyd’s cigarettes and—and—
    The list of sins grew. Bud was sure that he’d reached that awful age of accountability, all right, or he wouldn’t know what he’d done wrong. Moaning as a trickle ran down his leg, he began to yell, not that he expected anyone to hear, but he was just too scared not to holler.
    â€œMama! Daddy! Mama!”
    The wind snatched away his cries. The rifle was loaded. If he fired it, maybe someone would hear. Dumping the rabbits at his feet, he held the .22 as straight up as he could and pulled the trigger.
    â€œSon!” Buddy’s heart leaped. The call was far away but it sounded like Daddy. He managed to reload and fired again. “Dad! Dad!”
    If he just comes, I’ll never be bad again! I’ll put a nickel in the collection plate every Sunday! I won’t cuss and—
    â€œBuddy!” The voice was nearer.
    â€œDad!” Bud lunged forward with the bag and rifle. “You came!”
    Shielded inside his father’s jacket, a wet cloth held over his nose, he felt safe even though they were still out in the storm. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want the world to end, but if one or the other had to happen, it was sure a sight better to be with your father or mother.
    â€œBud, we’re going to wait till the storm dies down.” Daddy ripped the towel in half. “Hold that over your nose and sit down so I can hold my jacket around us both.”
    Through the cloth, Bud croaked, “Daddy—is the world comin’ to an end?”
    â€œI don’t know, son. But you’re young enough you don’t have to worry, and your mama’s praying for us. I’m with you. Whatever happens, I’m going to hang on to you.”
    The jacket smelled like Daddy. The wind tried to tug it away but Daddy held on tight and knotted the arms. He fumbled and thrust something into Bud’s hand. “Here’s a stick of gum, Bud. Your favorite. Juicy Fruit.”
    It didn’t seem like you could chew gum if the world was ending. Maybe it was just an extra-bad storm. Bud hadn’t sat in his father’s lap for years but now he snuggled close and chewed real slow to make the sweet flavor last.
    When he really knew what was happening again, Daddy was untying the jacket sleeves. Dust fine as Mama’s lilac talcum powder poured in on them as the sleeves unfolded. Dust that was packed solid against their legs and up to their waists slid away reluctantly. More, sifted from Daddy’s shoulders as he straightened. Bud sneezed and gazed through eyes watering with grit at what must be the sun.
    It looked like a spoiled brown orange in a brown sky. The bag of rabbits was a mound in smoother drifts, like a small grave. Bud began to shake, though he wasn’t cold.
    If Daddy hadn’t come, he’d be like that. Dead as the rabbits. It made him feel a stab of pity for them. Thinking of the nickels they’d bring and what the nickels would buy, he’d got so he really didn’t think about them dying, guts or brains smashed by a shot, but seeing them like that as if they were buried—the way he would have been—never to see the light or breathe or move—
    Bud hadn’t cried in two years. He tried not to now. His throat ached with the effort but tears crawled down his nose anyway.
    â€œIt’s all right, son.” Daddy helped him up, steadied him since his feet had gone to sleep. “Let’s get home. Your mother’ll be worried.” He fished the .22 out of the dust that covered it though the barrel had