Chapter 67

• Somewhere on that porch swing, the old squeak still sang like it remembered every promise Beau Walker ever made. But today it sat empty — chain swayin’ slow in the breeze while the yard in front of it thumped with all the reasons that swing never got too quiet for too long.
• Jesse led the pack — hair stickin’ up wild, knees brown with good country dirt. He whooped loud when his little brothers tackled him in the grass, all bare feet and skinned shins, mouths full of stories they’d forget by morning. Every so often one’d yell “Mama!” just to see if Sadie’d poke her head out and threaten to hose ‘em down before they tracked the yard inside.
• Sadie’d given up fussin’ hours ago — settled herself on the porch step instead, braid swingin’ down her back while she flicked corn silk into an old bowl at her feet. The baby — well, not so much a baby now — perched on Beau’s shoulders, tiny boots thunkin’ his chest every time she squealed “Higher, Daddy! Higher!”