Lost Man's River(287)

“Funny, ain’t it? My cousin-in-law over to Marco, the one who helped to lynch that nigra in the thirties? Well, that man never missed a meal until his last morning, when he overslept his breakfast. Died peaceful in his sleep and after a long, healthy life. How do you figure that one?

“I never did commit a crime against a black man, and I’m darn glad of it. But I never done a darn thing for ’em neither, even when I had the chance. You reckon that’s why the Good Lord up there struck this sinner blind? Because I knew better? Because I knew better?”

Andy House held both hands high as if warding off the molten fire of the sinking sun. “Kind of late now, ain’t it, Colonel? I have missed my chance. Sins of omission, they will call it, where I’m headed for.”

In a long silence, the blind man gazed away, his blue eyes wide, as if to behold everything on earth. From the scarred prospect of the Golden Years Estates came the harsh grind and bang of earthmoving machines and the snort of air brakes. “Panther Crescent!” he exclaimed at last with a great rueful sigh, and slapped his big hands down upon his knees, turning to Watson. “Where you headed for, Colonel, this late in the day?”

The question startled Lucius, who had fallen silent, in the dread of home. He had nobody to meet, no place he had to be.

Sensing something, Andy House groped for his hand and gripped it with emotion. “You best stay and eat supper with us.” Forgetting that Andy could not see him, Lucius shook his head, and Andy shrugged. “Well, heck!” he said. “It ain’t none of my business. But I sure been happy to make your acquaintance. You ain’t a bad feller, Colonel, and you never was.” He grunted in his struggle to stand up. “You don’t have to wait here, Colonel. I will be just fine.”

Finding his voice, Lucius assured him he was in no hurry. He would be glad, he said, to stay a little longer, in case Andy needed any help fighting off those panthers.