Hornswoggled
by Donis Casey
Summary
It’s the spring of 1913, and everyone in Boynton, Oklahoma, likes Alice Tucker’s new beau, Walter Kelley. Everyone but Alice’s mother, Alafair, who first appeared in The Old Buzzard Had It Coming. Walter’s late wife Louise was stabbed in the heart and her body disposed of. Her murderer has never been caught.
The sheriff has cleared Walter of the deed…but as Alafair searches for the truth, she uncovers such a tangle of lies, misdirections, and deceit that she begins to think that the whole town has been downright—hornswoggled!
Excerpt
Something bad was bound to happen. It was just that kind of hot, humid, Oklahoma July day, with a gritty wind that blew everything away. Fifteen-year-old George Washington Tucker, known as Gee Dub, hunkered on the grassy, overgrown banks of Cane Creek, grimly handing on to his fishing pole, trying to ignore the sweltering heat and the clouds of gnats, mosquitos, and various other disgusting critters who were trying to fly up his nose and into his eyes and drink the salt off of his sweat-slick skin. The hot wind was maddening, the way it blew first out of the north, then out of the southwest, then died and dropped his damp, black curls into his eyes. At least when it picked up again, it blew the gnats away for a few seconds. And it wasn’t even quite noon, that was the sad thing.
Normally Gee Dub loved fishing, since he was a contemplative boy. He loved thinking about what his mother was going to do with the little perch or crappie, or occasional catfish, that he would catch. Oh, how good they would taste, rolled in cornmeal and friend quickly in bacon grease until the tender white flesh was encased in a golden crust. Having to eat the fish slowly, so slowly, and chew co carefully to avoid swallowing one of the hundreds of tiny bones only enhances the dining experience.
But today the joy of fishing was ruined not just by the worrisome weather, but by Gee Dub’s eleven-year-old brother, Charlie, and Charlie’s ever-present canine companion, Charlie-dog. Charlie-boy had insisted on going swimming. Gee Dub had sent him and his dog as far downstream as he could and still keep an eye on them, but it was no good. All his splashing and jumping and hollering had spooked the fish, and there would be no fried fish for dinner. Gee Dub was bereft.
He could hear Charlie yelling at him. “Look at me, Gee, look at me!” But Gee Dub didn’t look. He didn’t want to encourage the boy. Charlie was climbing up into a young cottonwood, crawling out onto a wayward branch that hung over the creek, and dropping himself off into the middle of the water with a whoop. He must have done it ten times, with the dog running up and down, barking the whole time, and Gee Dub had just about had enough. The weather was getting hotter, the fishing was bad, and Charlie was driving him right ‘round the bend. He pulled in his line.
Suddenly there was a crack of noise as loud as a rifle shot, and a splash, and Gee Dub leaped where he sat. He looked downstream, wide-eyed. Charlie was nowhere to be seen. The yellow shepherd was leaping and barking frantically on the bank. Gee Dub jumped to his feet and scanned the creek bank anxiously. No skinny, naked little boy. Just a large cottonwood branch floating away from him in the middle of the water.
Reviews
“…nostalgic, folksy…rich with Midwestern speech patterns and a consistent, unobtrusive narrative voice”—Publishers Weekly
“A tremendous novel from a gifted writer”—Edgar finalist Julia Spencer-Fleming
“Alafair Tucker deserves to stand beside Ma Joad in literature’s gallery of heroic ladies”—Tony Hillerman on The Old Buzzard Had
Author's Biography
A third generation Oklahoman, Donis Casey grew up among uncles and aunts, cousins, grandparents and great-grandparents on farms and in small towns. She earned degrees from the University of Tulsa and Oklahoma University. After a career as a teacher and an academic librarian, she lives with her husband in Arizona.