HE SAID TO EXPECT POWDERED EGGS AND THOSE CUTE LITTLE CARTONS OFMILK “Take it, man,” said Drew. “You can unload it down in Greenville, and be in California by Sunday with enough cushion to stay gone for a while.” Rooster kicked the dirt. “Nah, I’m tired. Can’t do this anymore. I’ve already made arrangements. I’m having breakfast with Sheriff Tolbert on Monday. He said to expect powdered eggs and those cute little cartons of milk.” For the first time, Rooster looked fragile, not the hardscrabble deity he’d always been. “We ain’t got to do this, Roo,” I said. “If you got other things you’d rather—” “We’re going,” he said, pulling on those work gloves. “There’s no place I’d rather be, and no one I’d rather be with.” Drew stepped forward with a beer. “To Rooster.” We all raised a can. “To Rooster.” - That run down the Rattler lasted three days. I didn’t straggle back to my place until Sunday evening. Rooster stayed his final night with Birdie at the Mountaineer Inn downtown. She promised to give him a ride to the sheriff’s department in the morning.