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“Yeah. So?”
“They’re supposed to be sacred.” He touched them again, each in turn. “Wisdom. Strength. Courage. Perseverance. You’re supposed to burn them.”
“Is that an Indian thing?”
“Indian. Some other things.” Joh
They ate peanut butter sandwiches and drank grape soda. Jack kept his eyes on his friend and looked away when Joh
“There’s no safety on that,” Jack said. “Careful where you point it.”
Joh
Jack rolled his shoulders. “Dad’s a cop.”
“Can you shoot?”
“Straight enough, I guess.”
Joh
“Yeah.”
Jack kept his eyes on the fire. “Do you think cowardice is a sin?”
“Are you scared?”
“Do you think it’s a sin?” Insistent. Thin jaw clenched.
Joh
“God or no God.” Jack’s eyes were wide and still.
“That’s right.”
Jack stared into the dark and wrapped his arms around his knees. “What are we doing out here, Joh
Joh
“Hard to do if I don’t know what we’re talking about.”
Joh
“Jesus, Joh
“In or out?”
Across the fire, beyond the curtain of smoke and scorched air, Jack scrubbed a forearm across his nose. Orange glazed his eyes until he turned his head, then the color fell away and he was just a dirty boy with a washed-out tan and hair that stood out in all directions. “You’re pretty much all I have that’s good, Joh
“Come here.” Joh
Jack bobbed his head. “Dang, Joh
“I kind of figured somebody was dead when I saw all the blood.”
Jack’s face scrunched up. “Was there a lot of it?”
“It was everywhere, and I mean like paint.”
The boys were silent for a minute.
Like paint.
Then Jack shook his head. “I don’t understand what this has to do with us.”
Joh
“Yeah. Fourth-grade field trip. They made us hold hands so nobody wandered off and fell into a hole.” He was embarrassed, Joh
Joh
“Got it.”
Joh
“You’re talking over me, man.”
Joh
“What?”
“Slave times. Concentrate. See, slaves came over with their own religions. African stuff. Tribal stuff. Animal gods and spirits in the water, fetishes, charms. Root work, they called it. Hoodoo. But that was good for the white folks, just fine, in fact, because nobody here wanted them learning about Jesus and God and stuff. They didn’t want a bunch of slaves thinking they were equal in the eyes of God. Do you see? If you’re equal, then nobody should own you. That was dangerous thinking if you owned slaves.”
“So, they didn’t want the slaves to learn.”
“But they did. African slaves, Indian slaves. They learned to read and they took to the Bible; but they had to do it in private, ’cause they understood the danger of it, too. They were smarter than the slave owners thought they were. They knew they’d be punished for their faith. Sold off. Killed, maybe. So they’d worship in the woods and in the swamps. Secret places. Hidden places. You see?”
“No.”
“Think of them as hiding places for church. They called these places “hush arbors,” and they’d go there to worship in secret, to hide their faith from the whites that didn’t want to share their religion.”
“Hush arbors? Like the place on the map.”
Joh
“That’s in the book?”
Joh
“Not all of what?”
“There was a slave named Isaac, who was a preacher of sorts. He taught those who couldn’t read. He spread the word, even though he knew the danger of it.” Joh
Jack was enthralled. “What happened next?”
“He took Isaac home and hid him for three weeks, waited for the mob to cool down, waited for some guilt to set in, I guess. Then he gave that slave his freedom, and he gave him the land where his people had worshipped.”
“And been lynched.”
“That, too.”
“And you want to find this guy there?”
“Isaac Freemantle lived there the rest of his life. Maybe Freemantles still do. The trail goes right to it. Probably how they got to town and back.”
Jack frowned. “How do you know all this? You say it’s not in the book.”
“My great-great-grandfather’s name was John Pendleton Merrimon. Same name as me.”
“Yeah. So?”
“He was the one with the gun and the Bible.” Joh