Bounty (Page 176)

Everyone on stage sang the chorus and consistent humming.

Uncle Jimmy finished the song.

Through it I studied my man’s face. Unsurprisingly, the lines of life had tunneled deeper after he took four bullets for me and had months of painful recovery.

Now, for the first time since it happened, they were gone.

His life had smoothed out of his face once again, finally, as he watched me receive the second most beautiful gift I’d ever received…that one and the first both coming from Deke.

And at that end the song, Deke’s lips moved.

I watched them form one word.

Bounty.

It was a miracle of music. It was a moment a music fan wished for for a lifetime. The kind they’d tell their friends, their kids, anybody who would listen, sharing it over and over until the day they died.

That day eleven legends took the stage and sang the most beautiful love song ever written.

A song whose astonishing, exquisite words, for me, from Deke, months before came nearly literally.

So yeah.

That got the most hits on YouTube.

Absolutely.

And Dad would have absolutely fucking loved every second of it.

* * * * *

Deke

Body bent back, knees in the bed, Deke smoothed his hand over the ceiling of his trailer.

When he was sure all the edges were glued down, no bubbles, what was there fixed there being fixed there until that trailer was no more, he dropped his hand and looked up at the poster for the Johnny Lonesome tribute concert, one of several made up, this one with a picture of Jussy at a mic with her guitar.

He looked down at her lazing on her back on their bed.

“Good?” he asked.

Her eyes went from the poster over their bed to him.

“Perfect,” she whispered.

Not exactly, he thought. But it’s the perfect start.

He twisted and went down on her, taking her mouth.

Jussy opened for him.

Deke slid his tongue inside.

There it was again.

Perfect.

* * * * *

Twang Magazine

Rock’s Gypsy Princess Makes Miracles

Justice Lonesome’s comeback tour is not what you’d expect it to be.

Unlike what came from Lonesome’s debut, Chain Link, after dropping her remarkable second album, The Miracle Mountains, she did not hit sold-out venues and press junket after press junket.

She went on the road.

Not on tour.

Just on the road.

Apparently, you can be anywhere from sea to shining sea, and if the music stars are aligned, shining on you the fortune of Lonesome, you might be having a beer at a bar and suddenly a woman, sometimes with a full band, sometimes with just a guitar and a microphone, will start singing.

And that woman will be Justice Lonesome.

She’ll rock her signature covers of Rondstadt. She might sing any of her father, Johnny’s, songs. However, as old fans and the new ones Lonesome is claiming along the way are avidly keeping track of on social media, she always sings Johnny’s “Never Missin’ Home.”

And, of course, each time she’ll hand you the jewel that shone in her first album, that album’s title song, “Chain Link.”

She’ll also do her new stuff and you will not be disappointed.

Lonesome stamped her talent of penning a rock ballad all over her first effort.

Spreading her wings, showing growth and maturity, the ballads from The Miracle Mountains are more nuanced, have more passion, more pathos, and clearly demonstrate from debut to album two that Lonesome has honed already epic storytelling chops, including “Knight in Dented Armor” and “(Ev’ry Time I Come Home) Life Begins Again.”

But The Miracle Mountains gives us even more.

Emerging from the very long shadows of the two legends who came before her, Jerry and Johnny, Justice Lonesome’s signature ballads this time are mixed with twangy, foot-tapping, knee-bouncing country rock Ronstadt herself set the standard for with Lonesome’s new singles “Pleasure and Pain” and “Gypsy Princess.”

The Miracle Mountains is not a successful second effort.

It’s transcendent.

But it’s not only that.

It’s the way she’s going about spreading that love that’s refreshing and unique.

With her current level of popularity and a loyal, solid fanbase who’ve been waiting over half a decade for her second collection, Lonesome could easily fill event centers and smaller arenas.

Instead, seemingly randomly, with no notice, no promotion, no press, and most surprisingly, no ticket sales, wherever the wind takes her, she’s walking into saloons or honkytonks and letting fly.

But Justice Lonesome is not crazy nor is she stupid. It’s not just handheld phone video that’s hitting download sites. Professionally shot videos are also spreading wide. Even so, the production is minimal. It’s Lonesome, perhaps backed by her band or just rock ‘n’ roll’s gypsy with her guitar.

If your stars have aligned and the fortune of Lonesome shines on you and you find yourself in that bar having that beer and Justice Lonesome takes that mic, request her rendition of the Zac Brown Band’s “Free.” Buzz backed by fan video is that it’s wicked good. Added bonus, every time she sings it, her eyes never stray from the man who took four bullets for her, a man who never leaves her side, her fiancé, Deke Hightower.

Unlike her grandfather, Jerry, who worked the road and the business with smarts, screaming talent and downhome sensibility, earning his crown as a rock god. And unlike her father, Johnny, who took up the family mantle, followed his father’s path and soared even higher, earning his own reign. In one fell swoop, Justice Lonesome has seized a new crown: Rock’s Gypsy Princess.