It was not a sudden thought. Dreams of death are as common as dreams of love with the young, and Roman had reasons for both, if ever youth did. He loved Rachel, he loved Sarah, and they, he could admit to himself, cared about him. But his caring for them was not as important to them as their caring for him was to him; and that inequality of need he could no longer admit and live on. He despised his mother, and she had forgot him. He disliked his half-brothers without ever having known them. Roscoe Elk was his enemy. Leon, the smallest crumb from whom would have sustained the boy, too obviously wished him dead—or worse, unborn.

So, on the 19th of September at four o’clock in the afternoon, Roman went to one of the barns, cut a length of strong new rope, looped it under his shirt to hide it, and went off toward the woods. He felt himself watched, even though he was not. But when he got into the woods, he knew himself alone, without audience, idle or eager. He wasted no time going over it all again in his mind. He went directly to the small open space on the creekbank where he had been for the first and only time intimate with his father.

He found a tree strong enough for the deed—the same tree through whose leafy limbs the naked Leon, nostalgic for his own youth, had looked at the blue sky before Roman appeared. Roman climbed it, and it was not easy. He scraped the skin of one palm raw on rough oak bark, and winced to see it bleed, only to smile bleakly at how superficial that was compared to what would be.

He had left his shoes at the bottom of the tree so that it would be easier to climb, and he achieved the first strong high limb sweating and panting. He worked a long time fitting and knotting the rope around the limb where another, small limb branched, making a natural brake for the rope. He had no knowledge of knots and rope, and he had to make very sure it would hold. Finally, with equal care, he invented a noose that looked reliable, and certainly was. He put it around his neck and drew it close to fit. Closing his eyes, thinking no tortured farewell, no anything, he slipped off the limb and dropped.

His feet did not kick empty air, and he did not at first comprehend what had happened. Then he realized that he had been caught and held in arms, although the body the arms belonged to staggered and shitted its feet to find a firm foundation. Incredulous, Roman thought and said, “Leon!” Opening his eyes, he looked into the angry face of Floyd.