Nothing Gold Can Stay: Stories
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
From Ron Rash, PEN / Faulkner Award finalist and New York Times bestselling author of Serena, comes a new collection of unforgettable stories set in Appalachia that focuses on the lives of those haunted by violence and tenderness, hope and fear—spanning the Civil War to the present day.
The darkness of Ron Rash’s work contrasts with its unexpected sensitivity and stark beauty in a manner that could only be accomplished by this master of the short story form.
Nothing Gold Can Stay includes 14 stories, including Rash’s “The Trusty,” which first appeared in The New Yorker.
to believe it. Vickery answered that if Sinkler thought he’d lightened his load he was mistaken. It’d be easy enough to find another bucket, maybe one that could hold an extra gallon. Sinkler shrugged and lifted himself into the cage truck, found a place on the metal bench among the sweating convicts. He’d won over the other guards with cigarettes and small loans, that and his mush talk, but not Vickery, who’d argued that making Sinkler a trusty would only give him a head start when he tried to
cars onto the off-ramp and turns right like the others. More billboards appear, advertising everything from Santa Land to a gold and ruby mine. “I should have listened to you,” Danny says. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if I had.” “We needed something that wouldn’t break down every week,” Lisa answers. “If I’d been late another time, I’d likely be out of a job.” “But it didn’t need to be this new a truck. That was my wanting, not yours.” “I’ve enjoyed this truck as much as you have.” Lisa
him?” the man said of the youth. “Ain’t your concern.” “It kindly is,” the man said. “Go on now and you’ll be in Tennessee come nightfall.” The youth’s shoulders were shaking. He looked at his companion and then at the white man. “You got no cause to tie me up,” the youth said. “I ain’t gonna be no trouble. You tell him, Viticus.” “He’d not be much bother to take with me,” the older fugitive said. “I promised his momma I’d look after him.” “You make the same promise to his father?” the
answered. “You pick one.” “I’ll do ‘Both Sides Now,’ ” Wendy said. “It’s a pretty song.” Wendy sat by the stall door and began to hum. Thomas put his arm around Sabra’s waist and pulled her close. She let her head lie against his chest like Wendy had. A few times she and Sheila had pretended to dance, copying couples on television who glided across ballrooms, but this was easier. You just leaned into each other and moved your feet a little. A part of her seemed to watch from somewhere else as
honeysuckle and desire swamped him. He tried to clear his mind and come up with reasons to delay but none came. “We’ll leave in the morning,” Sinkler said. “All right,” she said, touching him a moment longer before removing her hand. “We’ll have to travel light.” “I don’t mind that,” Lucy said. “It ain’t like I got piddling anyway.” “Can you get me one of his shirts and some pants?” Lucy nodded. “Don’t pack any of it until tomorrow morning when he’s in the field,” Sinkler said. “Where are