A Chevy Cavalier is a regular, older compact car. The way it’s described—worn and “faded”—is basically telling you the family is dealing with a beat-up, not-very-new car.
A four-cylinder engine uses four pistons to generate power, typically prioritizing fuel economy and lower cost over high performance. The “sputtered” description suggests the engine is struggling to run reliably, consistent with an aging vehicle.
Pumping the gas means pressing the accelerator a few times to help the car start when it’s cold or acting up. It’s a sign the car isn’t starting easily on its own.
Those are warning sounds from the car. Hissing could be a leak or something escaping, and knocking usually means the engine isn’t happy—so it’s likely having a problem.
Concept
junk on the road in a pinch
It means he helped people keep their old cars running when they had trouble. Instead of replacing everything, they’d patch it up so it could still drive.
The interior is everything inside the car—like seats and carpeting. They removed and replaced it because the smell wouldn’t go away.
Concept
mechanic shop
A mechanic shop is where people take cars to get work done. Here, the car sat there for a long time trying to fix the problem.
LIVE
Today is the finale of season one of Diwali Bottoms.
I'm gonna take season one and add about 30,000 more words to it and submit it as a novel manuscript.
Season two of Diwali Bottoms
will start next week
with the return of season four of the Wreck and Yard podcast.
But for now, let's go back to Diwali Bottoms.
Deborah fussed with her purse a little as she walked to the faded white Chevy Cavalier in their modest gravel driveway.
She sat in the driver's seat and stared at her own reflection in the rear view mirror.
The anger and grief had changed her eyes. She didn't recognize the person staring back at her.
She had to pump the gas as she turned the key to start the engine before the worn four-cylinder sputtered a little and began running.
Her husband was a good man of no means and spent many evenings covered in grease, coaxing more life out of the Chevrolet until they could afford to replace it.
She turned on the highway 42 at the small Laird Hill post office and accelerated towards the Diwali Bottoms.
She began to cry as she passed the school, Levers Chapel. Her hands shook as she drove. There would be a reckoning today.
The nitty gritty dirt band was singing about a Tennessee stud on the radio.
Danny caught himself tapping the steering wheel remembering the way his younger brother had practiced the song for weeks.
Donnie had died of pneumonia and custody about five years back.
Danny had went and seen him in his last moments, but hadn't been able to get Tony there despite his lawyer's efforts with a warden at Easton.
Donnie couldn't talk full of tubes by that point, but Danny had talked.
Danny had said a lot to his little brother. All things true, even if unfair.
He pulled up to Carl's shop knowing an explanation was due after he went to confront Tom the night before.
More than an explanation, he would have to fess up and apologize to his oldest friend for involving his son after telling him not to.
He didn't know what red would do, but he figured it would have to be a little better grounded than where his mind went when he thought about Tom.
Carl had the big bay doors open when he pulled up.
Danny parked his pickup and began to walk towards Carl Sr. when the faded white cavalier pulled up at the bay doors hissing and knocking.
The four cylinder died with a loud hiss as the door opened.
He laughed to himself. Every old bitty in town knew Carl Sr. was soft-hearted enough to keep their junk on the road in a pinch.
He didn't recognize the woman who got out of the car, but figured from the gray and bun and long skirt she wore that she was one of the local holy rollers,
getting ready to go save some souls.
She looked up at him and he thought briefly,
Sister, you're knocking on the wrong door. Ain't no salvation for me.
He was surprised by her teary eyes when she spoke.
I think you're Mr. Ware, aren't you?
Danny grand at the small woman. I reckon, but most everyone calls me Danny.
The mousy church lady smiled and retched into her pocket.
She pulled the small 38 she had taken from her husband's nightstand that morning and poked it into Danny's stomach.
You killed my boys, Mr. Ware. She whispered as she pulled the trigger.
Danny could see Carl Sr. running towards him, but he couldn't hear him.
It wasn't the first time he'd been shot, but certainly the most unexpected.
He staggered away from the woman before slumping down on the ground against the wheel of his pickup.
He looked down at the dark blood pouring from his shirt.
Good shot, lady. He half whispered.
She just stood there holding the gun, shaking.
He didn't feel much pain, but the blood in his throat let an old soldier know he was at the end of his run.
Carl Sr. was down with him, telling him to hold on. He blinked and looked at his friend.
To what? There's nothing to hold on to anymore.
He spits some blood up on his shirt and leaned his head back in the sunshine.
He looked at the small woman. She had dropped the gun and was praying hysterically.
Don't bother the Lord about this one, ma'am. It's okay. I had it coming.
He chuckled a little and grabbed Carl Sr.'s hand and breathed the last breath Danny Ware would breathe.
Within a few days, everyone in East Texas knew about Reverend Black's wife killing Danny Ware.
Tiffany had been beside herself since the news had reached Eleven's household.
Her father had been holed up in his office on the phone for days and as much as she needed answers,
she was still thankful she had been able to avoid his eyes.
Her mother went to answer the door after an unexpected knock.
She recognized the older man as Dave Tilton. He had a small law office down the street from
Carl's shop and occasionally drank coffee with Carl Sr. and Danny. He asked her mother about
Tiffany. She stood as they came into the living room. Her mother's voice seemed unsure when she
said, Tiffany, this is Mr. Ware's lawyer. He needs to speak with you.
He extended his hand with a warm smile.
Ms. Eleven, sorry for the intrusion, but I have some things for you.
He sat and opened his briefcase and handed her a letter to read from Danny.
Tiffany, I ain't got no family left to speak of. Tony loved you, told me he loved your daughter.
That's enough for me. Take care of that baby.
Tiffany looked to Dave for an explanation. Tom had opened his office door and stood at
the top of the stairs, wild eyed and confused. Danny come to me a few weeks back and asked
me to set all this up. Said he was getting too old to not have his business handled.
He left a considerable amount of money to Carl Hanes Sr. and the rest of his assets and timber
holdings, real estate and liquid finances to your daughter Amber with you as appointed trustee.
Tom scoffed loudly. Assets, what the hell could that man even have?
Dave pulled some heavy folders from the briefcase.
Danny built a pretty serious portfolio over the years. There's several hundred acres of timber
tracks, about 1.8 million spread across CDs and savings accounts, and he's been buying everything
up for sale here in Diwali Bottoms in the surrounding area for the last 40 years.
Tiffany felt like she might pass out. Tom came down the stairs quickly and thumbed through the
real estate deeds. It was all there in black and white. Danny had even bought Tom's father's
old property in an auction. How in the hell? His head was spinning. I gotta get some air.
He stormed at the back door, leaving his wife and daughter and the older lawyer standing there
confused. They heard his Corvette fire up and roar out of the driveway. Tiffany sat back down with
shaky legs. Danny had fixed everything. She'd never be under her father's thumb again.
Tom cursed the sky as he drove towards the little convenience store on Sexton Road,
where he sometimes used to pay phone for private calls. He couldn't believe what he had just heard,
but maybe he could get out of all of this now. He could get Tiffany to pay his way out of Cibelo's
grasp. He got no answer from Steve's assistant and slammed the receiver back on the hook before
firing the back up and pulling out on the Sexton Road. Whether he noticed the motorcycles that
pulled out behind them is anyone's guess, really. They looked good, accelerating down Sexton, red
and gold shining in the bright morning sun. A few months later, Red was on his way to class.
His dad had offered to pay for the rest of his education with part of the Danny Ware windfall.
He noticed Tom's old Corvette sitting in the parking lot at the Chevrolet dealership in Kilgore.
Tom had never made it home. A week after he went missing, some kids riding dirt bikes down in the
Sabine River Bottoms had found that Corvette covered up with limbs with a weak old Tom corpse
behind the wheel and a 44-sized hole in his forehead. Red slowed the old Dodge down and pulled
in, walked up to the salesman standing by the silver bet. Y'all selling it? The salesman was
a big fella, deep-boist and a little crude in the way that good old boys who wear slacks to work
can be at times. He laughed deeply. We ain't ever gonna sell that piece of shit. Fiberglass absorbs
odors. We done stripped the interior, replaced it, set the body in the mechanic shop for a month
and it still smells like old Leavens on a hot day. He laughed harder at his own joke.
Red said, thanks, before walking back to his pickup. He pulled out of the parking lot and
headed toward the college. Briefly wondered if any one of them would ever know the whole truth
about Tom Leavens. The end. Season one.
Really hope y'all tune in for season two of The Wally Bottoms next week. Same time, same place.
I'm J.W. and I love you.
About this episode
Danny Ware shows up at Carl’s shop to confront Tom after years of grief and a custody fight tied to his brother Donnie’s death. A local “holy roller” woman turns out to be Reverend Black’s wife, and she shoots Danny in a shocking reckoning that ends his life at Carl Sr.’s side. Soon after, Danny’s lawyer delivers the truth: Danny left major timber, real estate, and cash assets to Tiffany’s daughter Amber, with Carl Sr. as trustee. Tom tries to escape his own control, but later disappears and is found dead in his Corvette. Red inherits education support from Danny’s windfall, while the full truth about Tom remains murky.
There’s a woman from Laird Hill you haven’t met yet. Her husband spends his evenings covered in grease keeping their Cavalier running. She’s quiet. A preacher’s wife. The kind of person you pass in a hardware store and don’t think twice about.
She knows exactly where she’s going this morning.
Danny Ware has been carrying something since Korea that most men never have to carry. He’s made his peace with most of it. An old soldier knows what he knows.
Tom Levins is running out of road.
And somewhere in Duwali Bottoms a lawyer named Dave Tilton has a briefcase full of things that are going to change everything for everyone still standing.
Episode 13. An Old Soldier Knows.
The season finale of Duwali Bottoms Texas. Thirteen episodes. One complete story.
