a breeder down in South Carolina for the little blue-speckled puppy. Daddy swore he was never going to have another house dog after the redtick he’d had for eight years was bitten by a cottonmouth, but it had been six months and Andrew rightly figured he was ready.
When Andrew handed him that puppy on Christmas morning, Daddy handed it right back.
“Didn’t I say I won’t gonna have another house dog?”
But by the time the fruitcake and coffee went around for the last time that night, the pup was sound asleep in his lap and when Andrew said, “You want me to take him on home with me?” Daddy said, “Naw, ain’t no need to wake him up.”
I should have realized that he would take Blue’s death in stride. When you’ve seen that many well-loved dogs arrive as puppies, live a dog’s long life, then die, I guess it gives you perspective.
I was pretty sure that there would be another new puppy to keep Ladybelle company before the year was out, and that the cycle would continue.
I leaned back against the rail post to face Daddy and said, “Guess you heard about your friend losing all the assets of his church.”
He gave me a wary look. “My friend?”
“McKinney. The preacher at the Church of Jesus Christ Eternal.”
“He ain’t my friend.”
“He was calling you Brother Kezzie when you introduced us the other day at the courthouse.”
“That was just preacher talk.” His voice turned stern. “You trying to tend to my business, Deb’rah?”
“No, sir, but did you know that most of the documents that pass through the register of deeds office are online?”
“What’s that mean?”
“Means that I can sit at my computer at my house and look up the deed holders of every piece of property in the county.”
He frowned. “Anybody can do that or just judges?”
“Anybody,” I said.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and lit one. The swing rocked gently back and forth, making a small squeak.
“I gotta get up there with my oil can,” he said.
I didn’t respond and the silence stretched between us.
I blinked first. “So how come he signed over to you practically everything he had? What did he think he was getting in return?”
Daddy didn’t answer.
“If you got his land fair and square, how come he doesn’t just tell people he sold it to you?”
“You see any dollar amounts on them deeds?”
“Just the one dollar everybody says when they don’t want to tell how much money’s changing hands.”
“Well, then. He must know about that computer stuff, too, and how people can go poking their noses in other people’s business so easy. If it didn’t worry him, I don’t know why it’s worrying you.”
“I’m not worrying, Daddy, and I’m not trying to mind your business, but when I see you with a shark like Faison McKinney—”
“Oh, he won’t much of a shark, shug. More like a little ol’ goldfish. Besides, if you read them deeds, then you seen I didn’t keep none of the ones he give me.”
“I know. But why would he bankrupt himself and his church for nothing?”
“Well, now, maybe he felt like he was getting a good trade.”
A sudden thought chilled me. “You have something on him? You blackmail him into giving back those deeds?”
“I’m done talking about this, Deb’rah. You got questions, you go ask that preacher.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. But I thought maybe he’d fast-talked you into thinking he could help you get straight with the Lord.”
“Me and the Lord’s doing just fine.” His tone was mild, but it was clear he did not plan to talk about land deeds or Faison McKinney any more. He stood up and said, “Let me get the paint ’fore it gets dark.”
He stepped inside the house and was back a few minutes later with a rag, a can of black paint, and a small trim brush.
As we walked down the slope with Ladybelle at our heels, the sun was still three fingers above the western horizon and the sweet smell of wild crab apples hung in the air.
The stone that Andrew had brought for Blue’s grave was about the size and shape of a five-gallon bucket. Daddy sat on a nearby rock and pried up the lid of the paint can.
With the rag, he brushed the dirt away from a fairly flat area on the stone and dipped his brush in the paint.
“Do you believe in a life after this?” I asked him from my perch on a rock that marked the grave of Aunt Sister’s ugly pet goat. “In heaven?”
