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Part Three
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Part Four
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Camilla
Acknowledgments
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I know I was done wrong
I’ve got to keep on singing my song…
… Lord, I know I done wrong
I want you to guide me home.
— Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton
Nacogdoches County
THE TRACKS were long gone.
But if you knew where to look, how to set your foot just so, you could feel history beneath your feet. The ghost of an old railroad tie, the slim rise of land where the earth had grown over an abandoned tramline. Evidence of a logging camp that had thrived in these woods over a century ago. Rey toed the rubber nose of his Airwalk sneakers into the damp carpet of sweetgum and tupelo leaves at his feet, overlaid with fallen pine needles, slick and rust red beneath a braided canopy of tree branches. Lingering drops from a light morning shower fell from the leaves, landing, crystalline and cool, in the black curls at the base of Rey’s skull, dampening the collar of the company-issued pullover he’d borrowed from his dad when he left home.
Home.
