Bag of Bones CHAPTER ELEVEN

I woke in the early hours of the following morning convinced that t here was any(prenominal) 1 in the north bedroom with me. I sat up against the pillows, rubbed my eyes, and aphorism a dark, shouldery shape standing between me and the window.Who are you? I asked, intellection that it wouldnt reply in words it would, instead, thump on the wall. erstwhile for yes, twice for no whats on your mind, Houdini? hardly the figure standing by the window made no reply at all. I groped up, ground the string hanging from the light over the bed, and yanked it. My m tabuh was turned d sustain in a grimace, my midsection tensed so tight it felt as if bullets would strike bounced off.Oh shit, I utter. Fuck me til I cry.Dangling from a hanger Id hooked over the curtain rod was my honest-to-god suede jacket. Id parked it there era unpacking and had then forgotten to store it a sort in the closet. I tried to laugh and couldnt. At ternary in the morning it fitting didnt verifym that fun ny. I turned off the light and lay punt down with my eyes open, waiting for Bunters bell to ring or the fryish sobbing to start. I was compose earshot when I fell asleep.Seven hours or so later, as I was buy the farmting arrange to go emerge to Jos studio and devour if the e blend inic owls were in the storage area, where I hadnt checked the day before, a late-model Ford rolled down my driveway and stopped nose to nose with my Chevy. I had gotten as far as the short path between the house and the studio, except now I came back. The day was hot and breathless, and I was wearing nothing unless a pair of cut-off jeans and plastic flip-flops on my feet.Jo always claimed that the Cleveland style of dressing divided itself naturally into two subgenres Full Cleveland and Cleveland unremarkable. My visitor that Tuesday morning was wearing Cleveland Casual you had your Hawaiian shirt with pineapples and monkeys, your tan slacks from Banana Republic, your white loafers. Socks are optional, but white footgear is a necessary part of the Cleveland scent, as is at least whiz piece of gaudy gold jewelry. This fellow was totally okay in the latter department he had a Rolex on adept wrist and a gold-link chain some his neck. The tail of his shirt was by, and there was a suspicious lump at the back. It was either a gun or a beeper and looked as well as big to be a beeper. I glanced at the car again. Blackwall tires. And on the dashboard, oh look at this, a covered grim bubble. The better to creep up on you unsuspected, Gramma.Michael Noonan? He was handsome in a way that would be attractive to certain women the kind who cringe when anybody in their immediate vicinity raises his voice, the kind who rarely call the police when things go wrong at home because, on some miserable secret level, they weigh they deserve things to go wrong at home. Wrong things that result in black eyes, dislocated elbows, the occasional cigarette burn on the booby. These are women who more than practically than not call their hus readinesss or lovers daddy, as in Can I bring you a beer, daddy? or Did you train a elusive day at work, daddy?Yes, Im Michael Noonan. How crowd out I help you?This version of daddy turned, bent, and grabbed something from the litter of paperwork on the passenger side of the front seat. Beneath the dash, a two-way radio squawked once, briefly, and fell silent. He turned back to me with a long, buff-colored folder in one hand. Held it out. This is yours.When I didnt take it, he stepped forward and tried to poke it into one of my palms, which would presumably cause me to close my fingers in a kind of reflex. Instead I raised both hands to shoulder-level, as if he had simply told me to put em up, Muggsy.He looked at me patiently, his face as Irish as the Arlen br other(a)s but without the Arlen look of kindness, openness, and curiosity. What was there in place of those things was a species of sour amusement, as if hed seen all of the worlds pissier behavior, most of it twice. One of his eyebrows had been split open a long time ago, and his cheeks had that reddish windburned look that indicates either ruddy good health or a deep interest in grain-alcohol products. He looked like he could knock you into the gutter and then sit on you to keep you there. I been good, daddy, get off me, dont be mean.Dont make this tough. Youre gonna take swear out of this and we both recognize it, so dont make this tough.Show me some ID maiden.He sighed, rolled his eyes, then reached into one of his shirt pockets. He brought out a leather folder and flipped it open. There was a sorryge and a photo ID. My saucy friend was George Footman, Deputy Sheriff, Castle County. The photo was flat and shadowless, like something an assault victim would see in a mugbook.Okay? he asked. I alsok the buff-backed enumeration when he held it out again. He stood there, broadcasting that sense of curdled amusement as I scanned it. I had been subpoenaed to appear in the Castle Rock lieu of Elmer Durgin, Attorney-at-Law, at ten oclock on the morning of July 10, 1998 Friday, in other words. Said Elmer Durgin had been appointed guardian ad litem of Kyra Elizabeth Devore, a minor child. He would take a deposition from me concerning any friendship I might have of Kyra Elizabeth Devore in regard to her well-being. This deposition would be taken on behalf of Castle County Superior woo and Judge Noble Ran woo. A stenographer would be present. I was assured that this was the tourist courts depo, and nothing to do with either Plaintiff or Defendant.Footman said, Its my job to remind you of the penalties should you flush it Thanks, but lets just assume you told me all about those, okay? Ill be there. I made shooing gestures at his car. I felt deeply disgusted . . . and I felt interfered with. I had never been served with a process before, and I didnt care for it.He went back to his car, started to swing in, then stopped wit h one hairy spike hung over the top of the open door. His Rolex gleamed in the hazy sunlight.Let me give you a piece of advice, he said, and that was complete to tell me anything else I needed to spot about the guy. Dont fuck with Mr. Devore.Or hell vanquish me like a bug, I said.Huh?Your actual lines are, Let me give you a piece of advice dont fuck with Mr. Devore or hell squash you like a bug.I could see by his expression half past perplexed, loss on angry that he had meant to say something truly practically like that. Obviously wed seen the same movies, including all those in which Robert De Niro plays a psycho. Then his face cleared.Oh sure, youre the writer, he said.Thats what they tell me.You can say stuff like that cause youre a writer.Well, its a free country, isnt it?Aint you a smartass, now.How long have you been working for Max Devore, Deputy? And does the County Sheriffs office know youre daydreamlighting?They know. Its not a problem. Youre the one that might have the problem, Mr. Smartass Writer.I decided it was time to quit this before we descended to the kaka-poopie stage of concern-calling.Get out of my driveway, please, Deputy.He looked at me a moment longer, obviously searching for that complete(a) capper line and not finding it. He needed a Mr. Smartass Writer to help him, that was all. Ill be looking for you on Friday, he said.Does that mean youre going to get me lunch? Dont worry, Im a fairly cheap date.His reddish cheeks darkened a degree further, and I could see what they were going to look like when he was sixty, if he didnt lay off the firewater in the meantime. He got back into his Ford and reversed up my driveway serious enough to make his tires holler. I stood where I was, watch him go. Once he was enquiryed back out Lane Forty-two to the highway, I went into the house. It occurred to me that Deputy Footmans extracurricular job must pay well, if he could afford a Rolex. On the other hand, maybe it was a knockoff.Se ttle down, Michael, Jos voice advised. The red rag is gone now, no ones waving anything in front of you, so just settle I shut her voice out. I didnt want to settle down I wanted to settle up. I had been interfered with.I walked over to the hall desk where Jo and I had always kept our pending documents (and our desk calendars, now that I panorama about it), and tacked the summons to the bulletin board by one corner of its buff-colored jacket. With that much accomplished, I raised my fist in front of my eyes, looked at the wedding ring on it for a moment, then slammed it against the wall beside the bookcase. I did it hard enough to make an entire row of paperbacks jump. I thought about Mattie Devores baggy shorts and Kmart smock, then about her father-in-law paying four and a quarter cardinal dollars for Warringtons. Writing a personal goddamned check. I thought about Bill Dean saying that one way or another, that critical fille was going to grow up in California.I walked back a nd forth through the house, still simmering, and finally ended up in front of the fridge. The heap of magnets was the same, but the letters inside had changed. Instead ofhellothey now readhelp rHelper? I said, and as soon as I hear the word out loud, I understood. The letters on the fridge consisted of only a single alphabet (no, not even that, I saw g and x had been lost someplace), and Id have to get more. If the front of my Kenmore was going to become a Ouija board, Id need a good supply of letters. Especially vowels. In the meantime, I moved the h and the e in front of the r. Now the message readlp herI scattered the circle of fruit and vegetable magnets with my palm, permeate the letters, and resumed pacing. I had made a decision not to get between Devore and his daughter-in-law, but Id wound up between them anyway. A deputy in Cleveland garb had shown up in my driveway, complicating a life that already had its problems . . . and scaring me a little in the bargain. But at least it was a fear of something I could see and apprehend. All at once I decided I wanted to do more with the summer than worry about ghosts, crying kids, and what my wife had been up to four or five years ago . . . if, in fact, she had been up to anything. I couldnt write books, but that didnt mean I had to pick scabs.Help her.I decided I would at least try.Harold Oblowski Literary Agency.Come to Belize with me, Nola, I said. I need you. Well make beautiful love at midnight, when the full moon turns the beach to a bone.Hello, Mr. Noonan, she said. No sense of humor had Nola. No sense of romance, either. In some ways that made her perfect for the Oblowski Agency. Would you like to speak to Harold?If hes in.He is. Please hold.One nice thing about being a best selling indite even one whose books only appear, as a general rule, on lists that go to fifteen is that your agent almost always happens to be in. Another is if hes vacationing on Nantucket, hell be in to you there. A troi ka is that the time you spend on hold is usually quite short.Mike he cried. Hows the lake? I thought about you all weekendYeah, I thought, and pigs allow for whistle.Things are fine in general but shitty in one particular, Harold. I need to talk to a lawyer. I thought first about calling Ward Hankins for a recommendation, but then I decided I wanted somebody a little more high-power than Ward was likely to know. Someone with filed teeth and a taste for human flesh would be nice.This time Harold didnt bother with the long-pause routine. Whats up, Mike? Are you in vex?Thump once for yes, twice for no, I thought, and for one wild moment thought of actually doing just that. I remembered finishing Christy Browns memoir, Down All the Days, and enquire what it would be like to write an entire book with the pen grasped between the toes of your left foot. Now I wondered what it would be like to go through eternity with no way to communicate but rapping on the cellar wall. And even then only certain people would be able to hear and understand you . . . and only those certain people at certain times.Jo, was it you? And if it was, why did you answer both ways?Mike? Are you there?Yes. This isnt really my trouble, Harold, so dispassionate your jets. I do have a problem, though. Your main guy is Goldacre, right?Right. Ill call him right aw But he deals primarily with contracts law. I was thinking out loud now, and when I paused, Harold didnt fill it. Sometimes hes an all-right guy. Most times, really. Call him for me anyway, would you? Tell him I need to talk to an attorney with a good working knowl frame of child-custody law. Have him put me in touch with the best one whos free to take a case immediately. One who can be in court with me Friday, if thats necessary.Is it paternity? he asked, sounding both respectful and afraid.No, custody. I thought about telling him to get the whole story from the Lawyer to Be Named Later, but Harold deserved better . . . and would d emand to hear my version sooner or later anyway, no matter what the lawyer told him. I gave him an account of my Fourth of July morning and its aftermath. I stuck with the Devores, mentioning nothing about voices, crying children, or thumps in the dark. Harold only interrupted once, and that was when he realized who the villain of the piece was.Youre asking for trouble, he said. You know that, dont you?Im in for a certain measure of it in any case, I said. Ive decided I want to dish out a little as well, thats all.You will not have the peace and quiet that a writer needs to do his best work, Harold said in an a contemplationly prim voice. I wondered what the reaction would be if I said that was okay, I hadnt written anything more riveting than a grocery list since Jo died, and maybe this would stir me up a little. But I didnt. Never let em see you sweat, the Noonan clans motto. Someone should carve DONT WORRY IM FINE on the door of the family crypt.Then I thought help r.That juve nility woman needs a friend, I said, and Jo would have wanted me to be one to her. Jo didnt like it when the little folks got stepped on.You think?Yeah.Okay, Ill see who I can find. And Mike . . . do you want me to come up on Friday for this depo?No. It came out sounding needlessly abrupt and was followed by a tranquillity that seemed not calculated but hurt. Listen, Harold, my caretaker said the actual custody hearing is scheduled soon. If it happens and you still want to come up, Ill give you a call. I can always use your moral support you know that.In my case its immoral support, he replied, but he sounded cheery again.We said goodbye. I walked back to the fridge and looked at the magnets. They were still scattered hell to breakfast, and that was sort of a relief. Even the spirits must have to rest sometimes.I took the cordless phone, went out onto the deck, and plonked down in the chair where Id been on the night of the Fourth, when Devore called. Even after my visit from dadd y, I could still hardly believe that conversation. Devore had called me a liar I had told him to stick my telephone number up his ass. We were off to a great start as neighbors.I pulled the chair a little closer to the edge of the deck, which dropped a giddy forty feet or so to the slope between Saras backside and the lake. I looked for the green woman Id seen while swimming, telling myself not to be a dope things like that you can see only from one angle, stand even ten feet off to one side or the other and theres nothing to look at. But this was apparently a case of the exceptions proving the rule. I was both amused and a little uneasy to realize that the birch down there by The Street looked like a woman from the land side as well as from the lake. Some of it was due to the pine just behind it that bare branch jutting off to the north like a bony pointing arm but not all of it. From back here the birchs white limbs and narrow leaves still made a womans shape, and when the wind shook the lower levels of the tree, the green and silver swirled like long skirts.I had said no to Harolds well-meant offer to come up almost before it was fully articulated, and as I looked at the tree-woman, rather ghostly in her own right, I knew why Harold was loud, Harold was insensitive to nuance, Harold might frighten off whatever was here. I didnt want that. I was scared, yes standing on those dark cellar stairs and listening to the thumps from just below me, I had been fucking terrified but I had also felt fully alive for the first time in years. I was touching something in Sara that was entirely beyond my experience, and it fascinated me.The cordless phone rang in my lap, making me jump. I grabbed it, expecting Max Devore or perhaps Footman, his overgolded minion. It turned out to be a lawyer named John Storrow, who sounded as if he might have graduated from law school fairly recently like last week. Still, he worked for the firm of Avery, McLain, and Bernstein on Park Avenue, and Park Avenue is a picturesque good address for a lawyer, even one who still has a few of his milk-teeth. If Henry Goldacre said Storrow was good, he probably was. And his specialty was custody law.Now tell me whats happening up there, he said when the introductions were over and the reach had been sketched in.I did my best, feeling my spirits rise a little as the tale wound on. Theres something oddly comforting about talking to a sub judice guy once the billable-hours clock has started running you have passed the magical point at which a lawyer becomes your lawyer. Your lawyer is warm, your lawyer is sympathetic, your lawyer makes notes on a yellow pad and nods in all the right places. Most of the questions your lawyer asks are questions you can answer. And if you cant, your lawyer will help you find a way to do so, by God. Your lawyer is always on your side. Your enemies are his enemies. To him you are never shit but always Shinola.When I had finished, John Storrow s aid Wow. Im affect the papers havent gotten hold of this.That never occurred to me. But I could see his point. The Devore family saga wasnt for the New York Times or Boston Globe, probably not even for the Derry News, but in weekly supermarket tabs like The National Enquirer or Inside View, it would fit like a glove instead of the girl, King Kong decides to snatch the girls innocent child and carry it with him to the top of the Empire State Building. Oh, eek, unhand that baby, you brute. It wasnt front-page stuff, no blood or celebrity morgue shots, but as a page society shouter it would do nicely. In my mind I composed a headline blaring over side-by-side pix of Warringtons Lodge and Matties rusty doublewide COMPU-KING LIVES IN immenseness AS HE TRIES TO TAKE YOUNG BEAUTYS ONLY CHILD. Probably too long, I decided. I wasnt writing anymore and still I needed an editor. That was pretty sad when you stopped to think about it.Perhaps at some point well see that they do get the story , Storrow said in a musing tone. I realized that this was a man I could grow attached to, at least in my present angry mood. He grew brisker. Whom I representing here, Mr. Noonan? You or the untested noblewoman? I vote for the young lady.The young lady doesnt even know Ive called you. She may think Ive taken a bit too much on myself. She may, in fact, give me the rough side of her tongue.Why would she do that? Because shes a Yankee a Maine Yankee, the worst kind. On a given over day, they can make the Irish look logical.Perhaps, but shes the one with the target pinned to her shirt. I suggest that you call and tell her that.I promised I would. It wasnt a hard promise to make, either. Id known Id have to be in touch with her ever since I had accepted the summons from Deputy Footman. And who stands for Michael Noonan come Friday morning?Storrow laughed dryly. Ill find psyche local to do that. Hell go into this Durgins office with you, sit quietly with his briefcase on his lap, and listen. I may be in town by that point I wont know until I talk to Ms. Devore but I wont be in Durgins office. When the custody hearing comes around, though, youll see my face in the place.All right, good. Call me with the name of my new lawyer. My other new lawyer.Uh-huh. In the meantime, talk to the young lady. Get me a job.Ill try.Also try to stay visible if youre with her, he said. If we give the bad guys room to get nasty, theyll get nasty.Theres nothing like that between you, is there? Nothing nasty? Sorry to have to ask, but I do have to ask.No, I said. Its been quite some time since Ive been up to anything nasty with anyone.Im tempted to commiserate, Mr. Noonan, but under the circumstances Mike. Make it Mike.Good. I like that. And Im John. People are going to talk about your involvement anyway. You know that, dont you?Sure. People know I can afford you. Theyll speculate about how she can afford me. Pretty young widow, middle-aged widower. Sex would seem the most likely.Yo ure a realist.I dont really think I am, but I know a hawk from a handsaw.I hope you do, because the ride could get rough. This is an extremely ample man were going up against. Yet he didnt sound scared. He sounded almost . . . greedy. He sounded the way part of me had felt when I saw that the magnets on the fridge were back in a circle.I know he is.In court that wont matter a whole helluva lot, because theres a certain amount of money on the other side. Also, the judge is going to be very aware that this one is a powderkeg. That can be useful.Whats the best thing weve got going for us? I asked this thinking of Kyras rosy, unmarked face and her complete lack of fear in the presence of her mother. I asked it thinking John would reply that the charges were clearly unfounded. I thought wrong.The best thing? Devores age. Hes got to be older than God.Based on what Ive heard over the weekend, I think he must be eighty-five. That would make God older.Yeah, but as a potential dad he makes T ony Randall look like a teenager, John said, and now he sounded positively gloating. Think of it, Michael the kid graduates from high school the year Gramps turns one hundred. Also theres a chance the old mans overreached himself. Do you know what a guardian ad litem is?No.Essentially its a lawyer the court appoints to protect the interests of the child. A fee for the service comes out of court costs, but its a pittance. Most people who agree to serve as guardian ad litem have strictly altruistic motives . . . but not all of them. In any case, the ad litem puts his own spin on the case. Judges dont have to take the guys advice, but they almost always do. It makes a judge look stupid to reject the advice of his own appointee, and the thing a judge hates above all others is looking stupid.Devore will have his own lawyer?John laughed. How about half a dozen at the actual custody hearing?Are you serious?The guy is eighty-five. Thats too old for Ferraris, too old for bungee jumping in T ibet, and too old for whores unless hes a mighty man. What does that leave for him to spend his money on?Lawyers, I said bleakly.Yep.And Mattie Devore? What does she get?Thanks to you, she gets me, John Storrow said. Its like a John Grisham novel, isnt it? Pure gold. Meantime, Im interested in Durgin, the ad litem. If Devore hasnt been expecting any real trouble, he may have been inexpedient enough to put temptation in Durgins way. And Durgin may have been stupid enough to succumb. Hey, who knows what we might find?But I was a turn back. She gets you, I said. Thanks to me. And if I wasnt here to stick in my oar? What would she get then?Bubkes. Thats Yiddish. It means I know what it means, I said. Thats incredible.Nope, just American justice. You know the lady with the scales? The one who stands outside most city courthouses?Uh-huh.Slap some handcuffs on that broads wrists and some tape over her mouth to go along with the blindfold, fuck up her and roll her in the mud. You like tha t image? I dont, but its a fair representation of how the law works in custody cases where the plaintiff is rich and the defendant is poor. And sexual equality has actually made it worse, because while mothers still tend to be poor, they are no longer seen as the automatic woof for custody.Mattie Devores got to have you, doesnt she?Yes, John said simply. Call me tomorrow and tell me that she will.I hope I can do that.So do I. And listen theres one more thing.What?You lied to Devore on the telephone.BullshitNope, nope, I hate to contradict my sisters favorite author, but you did and you know it. You told Devore that mother and child were out together, the kid was weft flowers, everything was fine. You put everything in there except Bambi and Thumper.I was sitting up straight in my deck-chair now. I felt sandbagged. I also felt that my own cleverness had been overlooked. Hey, no, think again. I never came out and said anything. I told him I assumed. I used the word more than once. I remember that very clearly.Uh-huh, and if he was taping your conversation, youll get a chance to actually count how many times you used it.At first I didnt answer. I was thinking back to the conversation Id had with him, remembering the underhum on the phone line, the characteristic underhum I remembered from all my previous summers at Sara Laughs. Had that steady low mmmmm been even more discernible on Saturday night? I guess maybe there could be a tape, I said reluctantly.Uh-huh. And if Devores lawyer gets it to the ad litem, how do you think youll sound?Careful, I said. Maybe like a man with something to hide.Or a man spinning yarns. And youre good at that, arent you? After all, its what you do for a living. At the custody hearing, Devores lawyer is apt to mention that. If he then produces one of the people who passed you shortly after Mattie arrived on the scene . . . a person who testifies that the young lady seemed upset and flustered . . . how do you think youll sound then ?Like a liar, I said, and then Ah, fuck.Fear not, Mike. Be of good cheer.What should I do?Spike their guns before they can fire them. Tell Durgin exactly what happened. Get it in the depo. Emphasize the fact that the little girl thought she was walk of life safely. Make sure you get in that crossmock thing. I love that.Then if they have a tape theyll play it and Ill look like a story-changing schmuck.I dont think so. You werent a sworn witness when you talked to Devore, were you? There you were, sitting out on your deck and minding your own business, watching the fireworks show. Out of the blue this grouchy old asshole calls you. Starts ranting. Didnt even give him your number, did you?No.Your unlisted number.No.And while he said he was Maxwell Devore, he could have been anyone, right?Right.He could have been the Shah of Iran.No, the Shahs dead.The Shahs out, then. But he could have been a nosy neighbor . . . or a prankster.Yes.And you said what you said with all those possibilitie s in mind. But now that youre part of an authorised court proceeding, youre telling the whole truth and nothing but.You bet. That good my-lawyer feeling had deserted me for a bit, but it was back full-force now. You cant do better than the truth, Mike, he said solemnly. Except maybe in a few cases, and this isnt one. Are we clear on that?Yes.All right, were done. I want to hear from either you or Mattie Devore around elevenish tomorrow. It ought to be her.Ill try.If she really balks, you know what to do, dont you?I think so. Thanks, John.One way or another, well talk very soon, he said, and hung up.I sat where I was for awhile. Once I pushed the button which opened the line on the cordless phone, then pushed it again to close it. I had to talk to Mattie, but I wasnt quite ready yet. I decided to take a walk instead.If she really balks, you know what to do, dont you?Of course.Remind her that she couldnt afford to be proud. That she couldnt afford to go all Yankee, refusing charity f rom Michael Noonan, author of Being Two, The Red-Shirt Man, and the soon-to-be-published Helens Promise. Remind her that she could have her pride or her daughter, but likely not both.Hey, Mattie, pick one.I walked almost to the end of the lane, stopping at Tidwells hayfield with its pretty view down to the cup of the lake and across to the White Mountains. The water dreamed under a hazy sky, looking gray when you tipped your head one way, blue when you tipped it the other. That sense of mystery was very much with me. That sense of Manderley.Over forty black people had settled here at the turn of the century lit here for awhile, anyway according to Marie Hingerman (also according to A History of Castle County and Castle Rock, a weighty tome published in 1977, the countys bicentennial year). Pretty special black people, toomost of them related, most of them talented, most of them part of a musical group which had first been called The Red-Top Boys and then Sara Tidwell and the Red-T op Boys. They had bought the hayfield and a good-sized tract of lakeside land from a man named Douglas Day. The money had been saved up over a period of ten years, according to gent Tidwell, who did the dickering (as a Red-Top, Son Tidwell had played what was then known as chickenscratch guitar).There had been a vast uproar about it in town, and even a group meeting to protest the advent of these darkies, which come in a Horde. Things had settled down and turned out okay, as things have a way of doing, more often than not. The shanty town most locals had expected on Days Hill (for so Tidwells Meadow was called in 1900, when Son Tidwell bought the land on behalf of his extensive clan) had never appeared. Instead, a number of neat white cabins sprang up, surrounding a larger building that might have been intended as a group meeting place, a rehearsal area, or perhaps, at some point, a performance hall.Sara and the Red-Top Boys (sometimes there was a Red-Top Girl in there, as well me mbership in the band was fluid, changing with every performance) played around western Maine for over a year, maybe closer to two years. In towns all up and down the horse opera Line Farmington, Skowhegan, Bridgton, Gates Falls, Castle Rock, Morton, Fryeburg youll still come across their old show-posters at barn bazaars and junkatoriums. Sara and the Red-Tops were great favorites on the circuit, and they got along all right at home on the TR, too, which never surprised me. At the end of the day Robert Frost that utilitarian and often unpleasant poet was right in the northeastern three we really do believe that good fences make good neighbors. We squawk and then keep a miserly peace, the kind with gimlet eyes and a tucked-down mouth. They pay their bills, we say. I aint never had to shoot one a their dogs, we say. They keep themselves to themselves, we say, as if isolation were a virtue. And, of course, the defining virtue They dont take charity.And at some point, Sara Tidwell b ecame Sara Laughs.In the end, though, TR-90 mustnt have been what they wanted, because after playing a county fair or two in the late summer of 1901, the clan moved on. Their neat little cabins provided summer-rental income for the Day family until 1933, when they burned in the summer fires which charred the east and north sides of the lake. End of story.Except for her music, that was. Her music had lived.I got up from the rock I had been sitting on, stretched my arms and my back, and walked back down the lane, singing one of her songs as I went.