I have buried my guilty secret. Nobody knows it was me, and now, nobody is going to find out. Yet, whenever ex-bank president Ira Godley calls me to thank me for keeping the town safe, I am reminded of what I did. Each time I hear his voice I see his sedan upside down in that ditch and I get a knot in my gut from knowing I wrecked Ira Godley's car and his life. Yet, at the same time, I feel the same burning fury that I felt when I dug my knife into his front tire. He had it coming.

That summer was a killer: hot and dry. The crops were lost long before harvesting, and we were in trouble. But, my Momma and Poppa never argued like some folks did, leastways not in front of Dora and me, so I never knew the strain they was under till one morning after Chapel. Now my Poppa always said 'God be with you' to most everyone there, especially when it was his turn to bear witness, but one Sunday when Mr Godley was coming down the steps Poppa turned away and checked Goliath's shoe, like it maybe had a stone in it or something. Momma said 'Joshua!' and Poppa said 'Hush, woman' and I knew something mighty big and bad had happened.

Now, I knew nothing about banks and foreclosures, and wouldn't have got involved except for something that happened about a week later. Dora and me had got a pitcher of lemonade and some cakes Momma had baked especially and we set up in our front yard. We was gonna make five dollars! We didn't get any customers, except Momma, and eventually Dora said maybe we could eat the cakes and pay for them later when we was grown up. Just then Mr Godley drove by in his new automobile and blew dust over everything and ruined it and drove on oblivious to what he had done. Now, Momma come running out when she heard Dora crying and me cussing and I should have got a whipping and Dora a hug, but Momma just stood there and sobbed like her heart would break, and at that moment I discovered a black hatred for Ira Godley and his automobile.

Godley broke his pelvis in the wreck and has walked with a limp ever since. The paper said he had a blow-out, but I knew better. I had dug my knife in his tire like I wanted to stick it in his black heart. So now when he calls me up and says 'Good morning, Sheriff', I remember that summer long ago and that I shredded that old accident report.