Floyd rapidly loosened the noose and freed the boy’s neck and head of it. Having him safe, he set him on his feet, and seeing that he was unharmed, grasped his shoulders in both hands, shook him roughly and cried, “What are you up to, hey?” Floyd let him go, stood and stared at him, letting his own thoughts settle. When he had collected himself a little, he said as if just discovering the fact, “Roman?”

Roman’s head drooped. He trembled from the shock of what he had done, and not done.

Floyd pulled his chin up. “Look at me! What damn-fool, fool-thing were you trying to do? Tell me!”

Roman stepped back from the man. “You shouldn’t have stopped me.”

Floyd grabbed him and held him until he was still; and then Floyd said, “First thing, climb that tree and untie that rope and drop it down to me.”

Roman shook his head and pushed free. Floyd shrugged and began to climb the tree himself. Even in his agitation, Roman felt pleased in a small part of his mind at the man’s finding the climb difficult. It made him feel less clumsy and inept. Floyd made his way up the trunk, slipping a time or two and having to grab hard, and after inching along to the rope, untied it. The untying took him several minutes, and he muttered over the task, finally calling down to the boy, “With this many knots, you could have hung a horse!” When the rope was at last free, he dropped it to the ground where it fell in an impotent coil at Roman’s feet.

Floyd took his time coming down the tree. Looking at his palms when his feet found the ground, he said, “Bleeding. You put me to a lot of trouble. There I was, cutting off from the main road the back way because I wanted to see this place before I got home. I used to play here when I was a boy. Fished, sat around.” He frowned, remembering. “All kinds of things we did, Leon and me. You thought I was Leon. Why?”

Roman’s lips parted and trembled. “Hoped.”

“Hoped.” Floyd shook his head. “God, hoped.” He picked up the rope, looped it over a fist enough times to make a tight coil, and then swung his arm and let the coiled rope fly high over the creek, landing with a splash. They both watched as it took water and sank.

“How’s my papa?” Floyd said everyday-like. “I asked the first person I met when I got to Highboro this morning. The man said, ‘Oh, he’s well. Or let me think now: Did he die?’”