He looked down the hill, through the cover of trees, and found himself higher above the river than he thought he was. He stood quietly, listening, the way he had learned to listen in war, picking out sounds that were natural to the woods. Birds. The chatter of squirrels and the scratching of their claws on tree bark. The buzzing of wings from insects. The dull, scurrying noise of bugs playing in leaves. He did not hear anything he had not expected to hear.

He let his mind count the time he had been in the valley, going back to the Friday of his arrival. Six days, one day short of a week. He could not remember staying a week at any place during his wandering, or having been caught up so much in all that was going on around him. It would have been different if he had not taken on the painting job, if he had stayed with the fishing and left the painting to some other hire, or to Taylor himself.

He was close to being finished with the painting, he judged. If the weather held and if he could keep at it without stopping to fill orders for fish, he could have it done in a half-day—a full day at the most. But there had been many interruptions. The fishing. The rain. Now the search for Howard Reynolds’s grandson, though it was something he did not mind, for he liked the boy and the boy’s grandfather. And there would be the school fishing contest on Saturday. Another day lost. Still, he could have the painting finished by the next Monday, he believed, and when it was done he would leave for Elbert County. He would walk into Hiawassee and wait for the early bus, going wherever it went, and, from there, he would find his way back to Elberton. From the earnings of his fishing and from the wage Taylor would pay him, he reasoned he would have enough money for a ticket and a small gift for Travis, and if he won the fishing contest, there would be twenty dollars more. The gift was more important than the ticket, though. If necessary, he could hitch rides to Elberton.

He thought of the surprised look he would get from Travis, and the thought made him smile. Maybe it was time he quit his wandering and settled down in Elbert County, staying near Travis. It would give him time to visit, even if there would be little to say between them. Maybe the guards would let him take cigarettes to Travis.

He had an image of Travis holding a new package of cigarettes, turning them in his hands like a child holding a prize, and he became suddenly sorrowful. He rolled his shoulders, as though shaking the sorrow from his skin. The last time he had seen Travis, there was a dull, weary look in Travis’s eyes. He remembered the mumbling voice Travis had used in talking, as though talking drained him of energy. Remembered the way Travis had looked down when telling about not going to the funeral of their mother. “They said I could go, but I’ll have to have a deputy with me and I’d be wearing chains,” Travis had said. “I couldn’t do that, Noah. I just couldn’t. Couldn’t shame Mama like that. I ever get out, first thing I’m going to do is go out there to her grave—hers and Daddy’s. Tell them I’m sorry about things.”