Page 57 of Small Town Beast 2: Saverin's Duet

“No, you’ve got it right,” she giggled, again. Why couldn’t she stop giggling like an idiot? But her cheeks felt wet.

Absalom cleared his throat. “Lorraine Denver, I—” He broke off and ran a hand through his hair before restarting, “Lorrie, for five years you’ve been my best friend and you held my heart in the palm of your hand. There’s been no other since I first laid eyes on you all those summers ago. Now, this is the last summer that’ll pass without me doing what I should have done— hell, I’m no good at this.”

How strange to see Absalom fumbling for words. But Lorrie couldn’t speak at all. Outside a swallow coo-cooed. There was abuzzing against the window, like bees. The dog Lucky whined in his sleep behind the screen door.

“I love you,” Absalom said. “I loved you then. I love you now. I am sorry for ever taking this for granted. I swear on my own life’s blood that nothing will ever keep us from each other again. Lorrie, you are the wife of my soul and the only one I could spend the rest of my days with.”

Then as he leaned forward and kissed her, without resistance he slipped the two-carat diamond on her finger.

TEN

SAVERIN

Saverin found himself at Roman’s hill at six o’ clock sharp. He wore a dark green flannel shirt, his second best jeans, and steel-toed boots. There may have been a weapon tucked away somewhere in that getup. Only the well-trained eye could tell.

He parked his Legacy at the bottom of the hill and hiked up the oyster-shell driveway with the sunset at his back. The cold had deepened, but his temper kept him warm enough. The first thing he wanted to lay eyes on when he crested that hill was Tanya. But as he gained the slope, his mind turned to his cousin, the fallen king. Roman.

It had been inevitable. Roman’s reign went off on a rocky start. Accusations that he had killed his father Duke for the position followed him from the first day he stood on top the Harvest Hill and directed the cutting. He was a loner type; men feared him but did not love him. Deciding to call off the Harvest and turn the family business straight was the self-inflicted killing blow. Saverin suspected that the Feds had finally got to Roman with their warnings. Once Roman learned of Absalom’s brewing rebellion, he decided to cut his losses and take his newfound family out of Florin permanently before he faced prison– or a cold bullet.

And Saverin had learned from Crash Walker that Roman’s latest right-hand, Saverin’s replacement, had stolen the fabled cache of McCall gold and hotfooted it to Oklahoma just a few days past. The mutineers could no longer be bought off. Wise of Roman, then, to take the defeat on his own terms. As for his own relationship with Roman, his cousin, his former best friend…No regrets, thought Saverin grimly, though in the lonely corners of his heart, he mourned the past.

He reached the peak. Crowds of people swarmed the hill like a country fair. Everybody and their blue dog was here to witness the change in the regime.

There was music, there was barbecue, just like the celebrations at the end of the Harvest. The smell of marijuana lay thick in the air. Almost in a haze. It would sink quickly into a night of debauchery. Clearly Absalom was encouraging that. Warily Saverin eyed the tables of mash, hooch, moonshine, vodka, Natty, and a big bowl of red punch only young fools would dare to drink from.

“Saverin.”

Saverin turned; to his utter surprise Rebel McCall, Roman’s younger brother, came striding up to him.I’ll be damned.

“Rebel. How’s it?”

“Alright, man, it’s alright.” There were deep circles under Rebel’s eyes like he hadn’t slept in days. They clasped hands; whatever Saverin’s beef with Roman, it had nothing to do with Rebel, who stayed out of clan business and always had. The men had never been close but Rebel was easy to like. Saverin had never noticed before, but he bore a striking resemblance to Absalom Green Tree.

“Surprised to see you here,” confessed Saverin, aware of several eyes leaping their way. With all the Snatch Hills teeming about, one might easily try to settle a score with Rebel. He’d killed a Snatch Hill for trying to rape his wife. And Roman washis brother. On the other hand, Rebel was the best mechanic in Florin and that gave a man some protection.

“Figured I’d come put a face on it,” Rebel grunted. His eyes didn’t linger too long in one place; he was nervous as a cat in a rocking chair. “All them Snatch Hills fuzzin’ about is a sonofabitch stew. I’ll surely be gone by the time they clear that table,” Rebel said, indicating the open bar of liquor. “I saw one of them spike that punch, by the way,” he added.

Saverin scoffed, “No shit. Where’s your lady?”

“Not here,” said Rebel, staring down a Snatch Hill boy that gaped at him too long. “She took the kids off-mountain. I mean to have a talk with this Absalom about those rat-fucking Snatch Hills. I heard talk of a rampage over in Black Florin and that just won’t wash.”

“Any word on Roman?” Saverin asked bluntly.

Rebel’s eyes shifted to the great house. His face was impossible to read. “Roman is where he needs to be right now,” was all he said.

“I’ve got business with Absalom myself,” Saverin admitted, not pressing the matter. The less he knew about Roman’s whereabouts the better. Rebel offered his support for backup, which Saverin declined. “Best we don’t go in a pair,” he reasoned dryly. “They might think we’re plotting something.”

Rebel nodded. “Be careful, then.”

“You, likewise.”

Rebel disappeared into the crowd and Saverin turned to make his way up to the house. He avoided looking at the spot where his brother Sam had died. Head burst open by a shotgun shell. Closed casket. What would Sam think of all this?

Change is inevitable, Savvy.

Heads turned but none approached him.They’re scared.Don’t know what’s happening. Don’t want to bet on the wrong man.

He walked straight up to the front door, under the eyes of the two men standing guard, their Winchesters on full display to remove any doubt about their purpose. Green Trees, he noted. The whole hill was crawling with them.

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