Excerpt from Treeborne by Caleb Johnson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Alright," Ren said. "Let's see if she don't turn up tomorrow."

"Thank you," Wooten said. "Thank you Ren."

Folks remembered seeing Wooten Ragsdale down at The Fencepost Cafe at lunch that day. Said he ordered a bloody steak and a baked potato big as a newborn baby. He ate alone, Ren gone back to the De Soto Dam. Wooten's check, the money him and Tammy were making logging the land she'd inherited after her momma died earlier that summer, the house they were building there, these were the subject of hours of big talk and bullshitting at the little restaurant. Folks paid special attention whenever the couple came in to eat. Strange, they thought that day, Tammy not meeting Wooten for lunch. The county water department office was, after all, just down Madrid and other side of the square.

After lunch Wooten took a peek at the blind tiger in back of the restaurant. No longer a need for pretending there was an exotic animal on view, but the speakeasy's name had stuck. He took another peek and then another one till he was so drunk he had to cover one eye to see the road straight. He managed to arrive at The Seven unharmed, though he wasn't able to do much work. The chain saw missed each time he tried to lay into a tree. He took a nap in the cab of his pickup truck then drove over at Livingstown to see about that Crews boy.

Wooten found the boy's daddy Van in the shop building where he kept three llamas he'd bought off a traveling sideshow run by a spectacular midget. Van Crews swung a pistol onto Wooten when he barged in demanding to see Lyle.

"I don't keep up with him."

"Lie!"

"I ain't arguing with you about it," Van said, jostling the pistol. He lowered it when he realized how drunk Wooten was then turned his attention back to the llama's milk soap he had on to boil. Forever chasing fortune, Van Crews had noticed Elberta women becoming more concerned about their upkeep. He was working on a llama's milk shampoo too—made with real llama butter for extra shine.

"You ain't got any of that dope do you?"

"Not for you I ain't," Van said, pointing the snubbish pistol again. "I'll tell Lyle you was hunting him. Now go on home Woot. You look like twice run-over shit."

Wooten could piece together nothing between leaving Livingstown and showing up at football practice later that afternoon, though, when asked, he'd tell Sheriff Aaron Guthrie that he'd gone swimming. It was blamed hot enough for this to make sense—problem was, grown men in Elberta didn't just go swimming by themselves.

Wooten started out on the concrete bleachers with all the other used-to-bes who had nothing better to do than watch a bunch of high school boys running into each other time and again. The Elberta County High School Conquistadors jamboree game was a few weeks off and practice tempo had adjusted accordingly. Wooten gradually drifted down onto the sideline for a better look. He'd been a fair ball player on a couple good teams in the forties. He followed Coach Williams up and down the field. Coach carried hisself like a war hero, wore short gray cotton shorts and looked like a turtle from the neck up. Every Conquistador who'd ever played for him adored him to death. He gave these boys and the men they became scant approval in return, which only made them adore him more.

During one play a Conquistador—folks later told it was the Snell kid—came running toward the sideline on a passing route too fast to pull up. Coach Williams dodged, but Wooten Ragsdale held his ground. The Conquistador fell flat on his back. All the used-to-bes laughed and spat and clapped. Coach Williams even smiled around his polished silver whistle. Wooten helped up the Conquistador and slapped him on the rear end. When the Conquistador jogged back onto the field for the next play, Wooten followed. The Conquistadors didn't know what to do when he leaned into the huddle. The grown man smelled like booze and treebark. Realizing Coach Williams meant to let it ride, the quarterback lined everybody up and snapped the ball on two. He shoved it into the Snell kid's gut going up the middle on a dive. Wooten had plowed a path so clear the kid ran half the field before getting tackled from behind. Coach Williams blew his whistle and hollered for him to come on off the field.

Excerpted from Treeborne by Steven Johnson. Copyright © 2018 by Steven Johnson. Excerpted by permission of Picador. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.