It had rained recently. When the sheriff’s cruiser pulled around to
the back door at Irma Willard’s, the trees still dripped a bit, and the dust
did not rise when the vehicle stopped.
The car was clean. Not just the rain neither. We’re talkin’ washed.
No longer dirt gray, turns out the two colors were a rich deep blue and
and a simple cream white. Nice.
The official looking emblem thing was now visible. Turns out it
wasn’t a state emblem, but an Ardensville emblem. Had a settler and an
Indian and a buffalo and corn. Nice.
Morrow turned off the engine. He removed his trooper shades and
parked them on the dash. He studied his reflection two times in the
cheaters that now looked back upon himself.
The six shooters were not there. The medals and cross were gone.
The collar remained but only that.
Morrow looked at the faces in the sunglasses.
“Pardon Sir, but we have not been introduced.”
He bowed his head and prayed for guidance. He begged his
transgressions forgiven, his pride erased, and refuge in a righteous life.
Then he wept.
Once composed again, he reached to his right for a small cluster of
wild flowers tied together with a corn leaf and left the car.
With one foot on the first step, he turned to look into the direction
the breeze was coming from. Alfalfa. The horizon never seemed so far
away as it did on that particular day.
He climbed, approached the screen door, and reached for the
doorbell. He prayed some more before ringing. Stepping back off the
porch now, he waited and listened. That is all.
Footsteps could be heard descending the steps. With eyes closed,
Morrow counted each step. When the descent was concluded, Morrow
Looking up at the screen door now, he studied the obscured outline
yet standing back from the door.
After a silence, “May I come in?”
After a silence, Harold popped the hook from its eye, and the
screen door creaked open on its own.