Dear Sue your easy rider struck this burg today
On a southbound rattler side-door Pullman car.
I seen him and he was on the hog.
Easy rider, got to stay away
So he had to vamp it but the hike ain't far.
He's gone where the Southern cross the Yellow Dog.
William Christopher Handy
CHAPTER 51 YELLOW DOG BAYOU
Senator Lioncourt Lestrade saw the small diesel sea plane circle the bayou. It was just the sort of engine that Joe Hebron produced to make light aircraft affordable again, using vegetable oil for fuel.
Old Samson was already waiting with the boat at the end of the jetty. The plane made a perfect landing, just kissing the water with a hint of spray, then losing speed and sinking down with a final splash. The single propeller revved and the aircraft planed across the smooth grey water towards them. Samson wouldn’t have to take the boat out after all.
“Hi there Senator,” Effie Hebron waved from the side door as Joe stepped out, on to the plastic float.
“Hallo and welcome to Louisiana.” Lioncourt helped Old Samson tie the plane loosely to the jetty's concrete railings.
“It's good to be here,” said Joe. “Interesting jetty. Was it a bridge?”
“Yup,” said Lestrade “Used to be the main highway through here. Till the floods. Only a foot or so rise by the sea, but it's made a hell of a difference down here. Swept it all away. But I figured I could still use what's left. Yankee ingenuity. That's what will keep us going.”
Joe tried to imagine the jetty when it was still a bridge. Carrying traffic to the other side of the water. Big trucks and SUVs. “Are there still any towns out there nowadays?”
“Not one. Just swamps and then the Gulf. This is the end of the road. Old Samson stayed out there the longest, didn't you.”
“I did Sir. Till the Lord spoke, and told me to return to live with folks. To rejoice in the community of the Church.”
“Samson, don't tie the plane too tight there,” warned Joe Hebron “I don’t want to puncture anything.”
“The Lord shall protect your plane Sir. The Lord God shall protect this as he protects his whole creation.”
“That’s very good to know,” said Effie as she took Joe's hand and stepped from the plane onto the concrete.
“Yes Indeed Ma’am. You can look to the heavens right this instant and you can see the symbol of the Lord himself flying across the sky.”
They looked where Old Samson pointed, and there in the sky was a giant white cross, about twice the size of a full moon, slowly rising above the southern heat haze. A giant orbiting shape in space, slowly casting its reflection in the bayou as it crossed from south to north.
“Samson was the man who rescued Bruce Partington,” said Lioncourt “Weren’t you Samson.”
“Yes Sir I was. I followed the word of God. I was guided by the Good Lord. I found the poor boy like Moses in a basket, and I took him to Constable Lestrade. He also allowed the Lords guiding light to lead him to Washington. There the Good Lord caused Congress to listen to the secrets imparted to Bruce Partington. The revelation of the true cross. And there it is in the sky. The Bruce Partington cross awaiting it’s halo. The great cross and halo soon to deliver us from the Devils forces of wind and flood. Amen.”
“Amen indeed,” said Effie. “Amen.”
“Any idea as to when it will be finished?” asked Joe.
“Not yet,” said Lioncourt “It’s the usual problems with launches being delayed and budgets going up. The next sunshades should be quicker though.”
“That is why I’m here,” said Joe.
“I heard it might. Shall we walk to the house?”
Joe had expected some antebellum mansion with slave quarters and an avenue of old oaks covered in Spanish moss. The trees were there, and the moss, but the low buildings were more like cabins and bungalows surrounded by verandas. It could have been a small motel.
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