“Which we gave it,” Ryder said. Then he leaned forward and kissed Leo on the cheek, his whiskers brushing a scratch on the tip of Leo’s nose. “Thank you for the song book, Young Buddy. You big rascal, you.”

Jim squeezed Leo’s foot. They both left the room, and as they made their way down the dark hall to the light of the kitchen, Leo heard Ryder whisper, “Good kid, good goddamned kid.”

Leo tried out the rest of his new harps with Mr. Wolf until he got to his D. None of Wolfs keys matched it, so Leo turned off the record player and blew it alone. He was getting the hang of the note-bending pretty good, but it was mimicking tunes he was even better at. Last Thursday night, when he followed Jim’s singing in Lipscomb’s G, Leo hit most every note right the first time. What Ryder said was true: you have to feel it, not think it. Whenever Leo found himself trying too hard, he’d hit a wrong one. And trying wasn’t the same as concentrating either. Concentrating was really just listening to the river of music you’re sitting in, letting the current take you and having faith you won’t get ducked. He sang the first verse of “The Love Abode,” then he raised his harp to his mouth and went in tongue-blocking the low notes, pulling in on the high, he fanned his right hand as fast as he could and shit if he didn’t sound like a bluesman. He picked up his B-flat and tried the same in that key, this time saving his woo-wah tremolo for the end. Then he grabbed his G, danced around the parlor and didn’t sing a word, just played the whole number start to finish, his penis and balls bouncing and swaying as he dipped and turned, threw in a few forced trills and flutters, then ended it all at once at the window where he opened his eyes. He was breathing fast, sweating, and he felt wonderful. He looked through the trees down at a section of the river running pewter under that heavy sky he couldn’t see.

He gathered up his harmonicas and went back into his room where his penis got instantly hard; he was thinking about Allie again, the way she undressed in this room and made love and walked around naked. Man, how good it was to have this whole place to themselves. He lay back on his bed and began to stroke himself, but then he stopped. Big Bill was giving him big eyes from the wall. And for good reason. Leo walked over to Katie Faye’s box on the dresser. He put it on the bed and pulled out some of the pictures they saw last Thursday. Underneath loose papers was a square of cardboard. Written in his mother’s small neat print was a recipe for Mexican chili. On the other side was: