Excerpt from El Paso by Winston Groom, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

they stole a pail from behind a butcher's shop and Arthur would fill it with water from a fountain in the park and lug it back to camp for drinking, eating, and washing purposes. But at his lowest, Mick basically lolled around and stared out across the water and rarely spoke. the biggest excitement came when Arthur caught a little green grass snake and brought it back to camp. Mick pitched such a fit that for a moment Arthur thought he was going to hit him unless he let the thing go, which he eventually did.

then, one morning, Arthur finally said, "I'm going home."

Mick looked at him with an air of disappointment, but both of them realized that at least this great adventure was over. When they got back to Bostwick, the two of them spent the next several weeks of their spare time cleaning out the jakes—a typical punishment for what Mick quickly began referring to as their "daring escape."


Arthur sat by the window of his room in the orphanage, looking out on an irongray Boston morning. the sun had barely risen, and the streets already bustled with traffic and noise. His life at Laura Bostwick had not been miserable; since it was all he could remember, he felt no anger or even hurt that he was an orphan. But all of Bostwick's children, Arthur included, were taught to harbor a hope that someday a family would come and take them in.

When it so suddenly appeared that this might happen, Arthur couldn't help but wonder if it was no more than a wispy dream about to burst. Would they show up? the beautiful lady and the big handsome man; Arthur looked again at the piece of paper Mrs. Walters had given him: "Mr. And Mrs. John Shaughnessy (Beatie). He owns a railroad."

then, out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw a shiny open car round a corner and turn down the street. It moved slowly and deliberately among the regular traffic of South Boston—vegetable trucks, coal and ice and milk wagons, fish carts, trolleys, and ox-drawn bread vans mixed with a few dilapidated private vehicles and a spray of pedestrians.

the motorcar halted while a woman wearing a shawl around her head crossed the street, then moved slowly toward the orphanage. the motorcar attracted attention; people stopped and stared. Arthur's heart began to race. When it stopped in front of the building, he picked up the canvas bag and cardboard box.

they were standing in the dimly lit foyer of the Bostwick Home when Arthur descended the staircase into the room. Mrs. Walters had told him to smile. Beatie did not rush to him, but remained by her husband, holding his arm with an anxious, expectant look on her face. the man smiled broadly with big strong teeth. the matrons came in soon after and filled the foyer, where there were oohs and aahs and everyone bursting into conversation. Arthur stood there, alone in the corner, feeling forgotten. And then it was time to go. Mr. Shaughnessy took Arthur's cardboard box and carried it to the car, where he handed it to a man standing beside the open door. He was a young darkskinned man enormous as a statue and dressed in chauffeur's livery—gray suit with brass buttons, salmon tie, high-topped polished brown boots and a cap, perched on a head of bushy hair. He seemed to scowl. the man reached for Arthur's bag, too, but Arthur took a step backward.

"It's all right, Arthur," Beatie said. "this is Bomba, our driver. He will put your things in the trunk."

Arthur handed him the bag and, after Beatie got in, stepped up into the large open motorcar, followed by Mr. Shaughnessy, who stepped inside like a king ascending his throne. Arthur had never been in an automobile before and it was more magnificent than he ever could have imagined. When Bomba cranked the engine it seemed to come alive, like the sudden purr of a sleeping beast.

the seats were of deep, pleated walnut-colored leather that smelled of polish and saddle soap. the floor was covered with a lush gray pile of carpet that his worn-out shoes seemed to sink into. Behind the front seat a gleaming mahogany table folded down; built into it was a bar with crystal glasses, decanters, and a silver ice bucket. the car began to move with a low, breathy snarl, and Beatie handed Arthur a soft wool lap robe. He wasn't sure what to do with it, but she tucked him in. Light snowflakes swirled past the windows. "Well," said Mr. Shaughnessy, "what would you like for Christmas?"

Excerpted from El Paso by Winston Groom. Copyright © 2016 by Winston Groom. With permission of the publisher, Liveright Publishing Corporation. All rights reserved.