12Scratch didn't exactly miss Darktown. He missed the people. He missed Immy and Dobro. He didn't miss Culke Lowe, the self-professed sheriff of Darktown not recognized by any judicial or state law. He sure as hell didn't miss his uncles, who basically ran Darktown.
The area still looked the way it did in the twenties before electricity hit Oklahoma. Rows and rows of broken-down houses that used to be sharecroppers' homes went on until the horizon turned into woods.
It was way too late to see Immy, but he decided to go to her house anyway. Her kids would be asleep, but last time Scratch spoke to her, Immy had as much trouble sleeping as he did. He went to a small faded green shack that sat among several larger shacks. A big brown four-story house sat behind the shacks. That house belonge
