Mohawk (2011)
“the voice in the dark had said, and for a moment, Randall Younger was breathless. There was only a quarter moon, no real light, and the voice was so near, so tangible, that Randall at first thought he himself had spoken, not the man sitting on the tire a few feet away. But then a cigarette tip glowed red and faded like a light from a faraway locomotive.
“No,” Randall said.
“I know,” the big man said. “I know your name, Randall Younger. And I also know who you are. A young Mather Grouse, that’s ...who.”
“You told me that once before,” Randall said. He dropped the roach and screwed it into the moist earth with his shoe. Rory Gaffney waved his cigarette, leaving a trail, a red-white smear in the air.
“A young Mather Grouse.”
“He was afraid of you,” Randall said suddenly, surprising himself.
“He didn’t have no need,” Rory Gaffney said. “No need for friends to fear one another.”
That sounded too much like a question to be true. And yet, Randall knew, it couldn’t be entirely false either.MoreLess
“No,” Randall said.
“I know,” the big man said. “I know your name, Randall Younger. And I also know who you are. A young Mather Grouse, that’s ...who.”
“You told me that once before,” Randall said. He dropped the roach and screwed it into the moist earth with his shoe. Rory Gaffney waved his cigarette, leaving a trail, a red-white smear in the air.
“A young Mather Grouse.”
“He was afraid of you,” Randall said suddenly, surprising himself.
“He didn’t have no need,” Rory Gaffney said. “No need for friends to fear one another.”
That sounded too much like a question to be true. And yet, Randall knew, it couldn’t be entirely false either.MoreLess
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