Ruddy Johnson is the only person I know of who left the county and didn’t drop off the face of the Earth. He still comes back once a year for the county fair—he’s a contractor now, works out of the state capital, but he and Gary went to high school together and folks don’t mind him coming down, seeing as he was once one of their own. If I’d known Ruddy had a son like Davis, I might have let Gary talk me into hiring onto one of his work crews earlier this summer.
As my sister goes about uncrating the pigs, I lean against the side of my truck and wonder how long I can stall putting our booth together in the hopes that Davis will eventually drift down this way to help. I squint back along the main strip, but I can’t pick him out from the people milling about. When Jolene tells me to get a mo
