The Right Side of Wrong by Reavis Wortham

room and answered.
    â€œDaddy, it’s for you.”
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œI didn’t ask. You know that.”
    He sighed his way from the table as the talk quieted down, partly so he could hear, partly because we wanted to listen, too. There wasn’t much to hear.
    Two minutes later he was back in the kitchen. “Constable Parker, you ready to get back to work?”
    â€œSure ’nough.”
    â€œI need to go pick up a prisoner from Roxton and take him to Dallas.”
    Mr. Bell put down his fork. “Mind if I tag along?”
    Grandpa frowned. “Tom, I’d enjoy the company, but this is law work, and I cain’t take no chance you gettin’ hurt. You can ride with me one night when I have to make the rounds, if you’d like.”
    If it hurt Mr. Bell’s feelings, he didn’t show it. “That’s all right. I’ll finish my cake here and get on back to work.”
    Uncle Cody plucked his hat off the rack beside the door. “We can drop you off on the way out.”
    â€œNo need. I’ll walk my dinner off.”
    â€œYou ready?” Ned asked.
    â€œSure,” Cody set his hat and started for the door. “Who we picking up?”
    â€œCarl Gibbs. They got him after he blacked Tamara’s eye last night and lit out to hide at his mama’s house. A sheriff’s deputy is holding him ’til we get there.”
    â€œWhy can’t they take him in?”
    â€œBecause I want to, that’s why.”
    From the tone of Grandpa’s voice, I knew he was done talking about it.
    â€œCody Parker, you ain’t going nowhere until I give you some sugar.” Me and Pepper snickered when Miss Becky grabbed Uncle Cody and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It broke up the tension in the kitchen.
    Uncle Cody wasn’t embarrassed to be kissed by her in front of Mr. Bell, but instead of saying anything, he and Grandpa hurried off the porch with Miss Becky hollerin’ for them to be careful. The house got really quiet after they were gone, and before long we were finished eating and Mr. Bell struck out on foot for his house.
    Pepper went into the living room and clicked on the radio. The Beach Boys were singing when we laid down on a pallet made of quilts and took a long nap.
    It was the first day we’d worked like a full hand to rebuild a house, but it was far from the last.

Chapter Nine
    John coasted to a stop in the bare yard. The sun was hot, and he’d driven with the windows of his cruiser open all the way from Chisum. His sweaty shirt stuck to his back, but he didn’t feel the heat because he was smiling at a gaggle of kids watching from the shady porch.
    He got out, opened the back door, and lifted out two brown paper bags full of groceries, bought by money from his own pockets and from the worn billfolds of Ned and O.C. Rains.
    â€œHowdy!” he called through the gaping door. There were no screens on the house, and insects flew in and out without impediment.
    The slender black woman he’d seen days before on the way to the abandoned still stepped out and shaded her eyes with one hand. The baby on her hip wore nothing but a cloth diaper.
    â€œI’m John Washington.” For the first time in years he found himself admiring a woman. He liked the way she cocked her head and knew she was taking stock of what she saw.
    She raised an eyebrow. “My man ain’t here.”
    â€œThat’s all right. I can see him later.” John stopped at the edge of the porch and set the bags down. “Y’ain’t got no dogs here, do you, that’ll tear into these here bags?”
    â€œWe can barely feed ourselves, let alone dogs.”
    â€œGood.” He smiled and motioned toward the kids. “Y’all come on and help me unload these groceries. We need to move fast, before the ice cream melts.”
    â€œIce cream!” They charged the car. The older children grabbed the heaviest bags