| King of Country
Excerpt from a Novel first published by Black Belt Press in 1994. The newly revised paperback edition will be published by River City Publishing in fall of 2007.
Chapter One
LIKE A NIGHTMARE, Mama shook him awake on New Year's morning before the break of day. He awakened with a shock, staring into her tearful face. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her arms out like two strong supports. In her usual soft tones, she whispered, "Hank's dead."
He sat up, startled. "Hank Williams?"
She nodded.
She had been crying.
He reached out and took hold of her arms at the biceps and pulled her down.
She lowered herself onto him, covering him and holding him. They cried together.
She told him that Hank had died during the night. He had been on his way to Canton, Ohio, for his first big show since fall, when they had heard he had gotten married. Then, no more than three weeks ago, they heard that he had another woman up at his mother's place in Montgomery. The other woman was pregnant, Thelma Jean had heard.
"Somebody -- " Bobby Lee started.
"He died in the back seat of the car in his sleep," Mama said.
He nodded.
Ever since he had met Hank and the great man had played his guitar and he had played for Hank, Bobby Lee had a premonition that the man would end in a violent death. He didn't know why. He didn't even say anything to Mama about his thoughts. For some reason, he held them inside and they stirred within his mind and the thoughts were all jumbled together, the way thoughts were sometimes.
Now, he had the urge to get up out of bed and go to the front porch and hold the guitar in his hands.
He gently pushed Mama aside. He stood and pulled on his clothes and went to the guitar. He took it out and leaned against the front of the porch and put his back against one of the posts.
Looking at the place where Hank had stood, where the knotted old oak roots poked up out of the sandy ground, he picked. He let his fingers move at random. They just moved. At first they didn't make sense. It was just a jumble of sound, like the thoughts.
Then, suddenly, a sound came to him. It was definitely a Hank Williams sound. It was a run like he'd heard Hank do between verses of "Long Gone Lonesome Blues" or "Moanin' the Blues." It went down to low C and up the scale, then down again. It rolled from one group of sounds to the other, like the guitar was crying.
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