“Not me. I can take care of myself. I don’t need no help to lay down somewhere. Besides, I don’t climb no trees I don’t have to. I don’t climb nothing I don’t have to.”

“Isn’t more than five feet off the ground,” Lee said.

“Still, ain’t for me.”

“You ain’t much of a boy, not wanting to climb trees.”

“It ain’t the climbing worries me. It’s the falling.”

Lee took the limb and Goose lay down on the leaves. “These leaves piled up like this, my daddy used to tell me that there was ape-men did it at night. Piled them up, I mean.”

“You think they did?”

“I don’t know. I guess not. It was a good story.”

“What were your people like, Goose?”

“Just like other people, I reckon. Poor. But they was poor before the Depression. My mama was part Cherokee, and my papa was half Choctaw. When the dust come I left so they wouldn’t be in such a bad way with all us kids. I went down here to East Texas, and they carried on out to California.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

“Didn’t want to go no place where the weather stays the same. Can’t stand it when summer drags on. I like it when I don’t know it’s going to rain or storm, be clear or hot. Course, I liked it better before I didn’t have a roof to get under and some regular food. Maybe I’d have been better to have gone out there to California, now that I noodle on it.”

“I been. It’s nothing special. Just more of the same, only with a steady climate and oranges. Like you, Goose, I don’t like it steady all the time. Changeable weather teaches a man how to be changeable hisself. He can move with events. You can’t learn character when everything is smooth.”

“Maybe I don’t need no character. Maybe what I need is three meals a day and a bed and some kind of something over my head so I don’t get rained on.”

“Could be, Goose.”

Pretty soon Lee heard Goose snoring, and was surprised that now he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing, and Goose’s snoring wasn’t helping.

He lay there and looked up into the limbs of the tree. At first it was just dark up there, but in time his eyes adjusted and he could make out limbs, and finally, through gaps he could see a few stars.

He felt an old urge. The one he had when he was preaching. The urge to reach out with his thoughts to God, who surely must lie behind that veil of night and stars, and maybe wasn’t as mean as he seemed to act. Sometimes he thought God was just mean to him.

Maybe he deserved it.

He didn’t know what he deserved anymore, and didn’t reckon it mattered. Deserving had nothing to do with it.

There once was a time when he had felt close to God, had thought himself God’s servant.

But that was many sins ago.

He lay there and looked and thought and finally the sky lightened, and finally he closed his eyes.

Marilyn drove out to Sunset’s tent early the next morning. Found her and Clyde there. Clyde was sitting out front in a wooden folding chair drinking coffee. Sunset was feeding Ben from a big metal pan, some bread soaked in grease and yesterday’s gravy. Beside the food pan was a larger pan full of water.

Marilyn pulled the truck up close to the tent. The dog turned to look at her.

“He gonna bite me?” Marilyn asked through the open truck window.

“He minds pretty good,” Sunset said. “But I’ll come over and walk you to the tent.”

“That’s all right, we can talk while we ride,” Marilyn said. “Get in. Howdy, Clyde.”

Clyde lifted his coffee cup.

“Don’t look you’re hurting yourself none,” Marilyn said.

“I don’t know. I think I might have strained a little bit a while ago. The elbow, you know, when I was lifting my cup.”

Sunset gave Ben a pat, climbed in the truck beside Marilyn. Marilyn cranked up and drove off.

Marilyn said, “Where’s that other one?”

“Hillbilly? I don’t know. He was supposed to come in, but he ain’t done it so far. We keep pretty loose hours. We ain’t exactly solving a bunch of crimes, but still, he was supposed to have been in. Clyde took his truck home last night, and Hillbilly had to walk to wherever he’s going. He ain’t staying with Clyde no more. I think they ain’t getting along for some reason, and then Clyde burned his own house down.”

“What?”

“Burned it down. It was his way of cleaning it, or so he said. That’s one crime we solved. Who burned down Clyde’s house. He did it. Now he’s got to sleep under a tarp.”

“You know why they ain’t getting along, don’t you?”

“No.”

“You. I don’t know nothing about it, and I can tell you why. They both like you.”

“Maybe.”

“You’re breaking hearts, and don’t even know it, Sunset. Understand you got some real crimes, though.”

“So, Willie’s been to talk to you,” Sunset said.

“Henry.”

“I can’t figure which one of them is the ass end of the snake, and which is the teeth,” Sunset said, “but they’re just one long snake far as I’m concerned.”

“They told me what they think.”

“They can think all kinds of things.”

“I think they’re gonna try to have you removed at the next camp meeting. They may even try to bring charges against you, about killing Pete, Jimmie Jo, and killing and burying that baby in the colored graveyard.”

“Why in hell would I go on a killing spree? All of a sudden I go out and kill Jimmie Jo and her baby and then shoot Pete. Why would I do that?”

“Jealousy. It answers a lot.”

“I wasn’t that jealous, and I wasn’t that mad. I ain’t resigning. I didn’t kill that woman, and I’m trying to find out who killed her. It just takes time. Hell, I’m a constable, not a detective, and I’m learning the job. Even Pete had to learn the job.”

“I heard how you handled that situation in Holiday. Sounded like you done good.”

“I think so.”

“Fella got lynched anyhow.”

“Do what?”

“A crowd broke in and got him out of jail and cut his things off and set him on fire. They even took pictures. They were selling them over at the general store as postcards.”

“That’s horrible. I didn’t do no good at all.”

“You brought a murderer to justice.”

“No, I brought a murderer to a lynching, which was what they were trying to do in Holiday. They done to him just what he said they’d do to him. It’s like I didn’t do nothing but put off what was gonna happen.”

“They were gonna kill him anyway. Had it coming.”

“Maybe so. But not burned to death with postcard pictures made of it. Jesus Christ. The law would have at least been quick and there wouldn’t have been no pictures to sell-I guess it’s quick. Damn.”

“They say it was the law there let them have him.”

“I hope that ain’t true.”

“Sorry, Sunset.”

“Me too. More than sorry. Hell, maybe they’re right. I ain’t much of a constable. I’ve had a dead baby and dead woman and I don’t have a clue who done it or why, and the one thing I thought I done pretty good worked out just like it would have if I’d stayed at the house. And now there’s folks think I did the crimes I’m supposed to be solving, and when Henry and Willie get through, more folks will know.”

They drove along for a bit in silence. Marilyn broke it with: “I’m gonna do what I can to keep you constable. But I can’t make no promises. It was one thing when it was thought you killed someone beating on you, and there was a nickel raise, but if Henry adds this to it, convinces folks you might have killed Jimmie Jo, and a baby, or at least talks them into believing you ain’t doing enough to solve it…”

“When’s the meeting?”

“Couple of weeks. Thursday, noonish. And it’s just gonna be the camp bigwigs, not the whole camp.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You might not want to do that,” Marilyn said. “It could turn ugly as the ass end of a bulldog.”

“I know.”

“Got any idea at all who done this, or why?”