"He thought you said something to him," I say.
"I never said nothing to him. I never see him before."
"Fore G.o.d," pa says; "Fore G.o.d."
"I know," I say. "He never meant anything. He"ll take it back."
"Let him take it back, then."
"Put up your knife, and he will."
The man looks at me. He looks at Jewel. Jewel is quiet now.
"Put up your knife," I say. The man shuts the knife.
"Fore G.o.d," pa says. "Fore G.o.d."
"Tell him you didn"t mean anything, Jewel," I say. "I thought he said something," Jewel says. "Just because he"s--"
"Hush," I say. "Tell him you didn"t mean it."
"I didn"t mean it," Jewel says.
"He better not," the man says. "Calling me a--"
"Do you think he"s afraid to call you that?" I say.
The man looks at me. "I never said that," he said.
"Dont think it, neither," Jewel says.
"Shut up," I say. "Come on. Drive on, pa."
The wagon moves. The man stands watching us. Jewel does not look back. "Jewel would a whipped him," Vardaman says.
We approach the crest, where the street runs, where cars go back and forth; the mules haul the wagon up and onto the crest and the street. Pa stops them. The street runs on ahead, where the square opens and the monument stands before the courthouse. We mount again while the heads turn with that expression which we know; save Jewel. He does not get on, even though the wagon has started again. "Get in, Jewel," I say. "Come on. Let"s get away from here." But he does not get in. Instead he sets his foot on the turning hub of the rear wheel, one hand grasping the stanchion, and with the hub turning smoothly under his sole he lifts the other foot and squats there, staring straight ahead, motionless, lean, wooden-backed, as though carved squatting out of the lean wood.
Cash
It wasn"t nothing else to do. It was either send him to Jackson, or have Gillespie sue us, because he knowed some way that Darl set fire to it. I dont know how he knowed, but he did. Vardaman see him do it, but he swore he never told n.o.body but Dewey Dell and that she told him not to tell n.o.body. But Gillespie knowed it. But he would a suspicioned it sooner or later. He could have done it that night just watching the way Darl acted.
And so pa said, "I reckon there aint nothing else to do," and Jewel said, "You want to fix him now?"
"Fix him?" pa said.
"Catch him and tie him up," Jewel said. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it; do you want to wait until he sets fire to the G.o.dd.a.m.n team and wagon?"
But there wasn"t no use in that. "There aint no use in that," I said. "We can wait till she is underground." A fellow that"s going to spend the rest of his life locked up, he ought to be let to have what pleasure he can have before he goes.
"I reckon he ought to be there," pa says. "G.o.d knows, it"s a trial on me. Seems like it aint no end to bad luck when once it starts."
Sometimes I aint so sho who"s got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-Way. It"s like it aint so much what a fellow does, but it"s the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it.
Because Jewel is too hard on him. Of course it was Jewel"s horse was traded to get her that nigh to town, and in a sense it was the value of his horse Darl tried to burn up. But I thought more than once before we crossed the river and after, how it would be G.o.d"s blessing if He did take her outen our hands and get shut of her in some clean way, and it seemed to me that when Jewel worked so to get her outen the river, he was going against G.o.d in a way, and then when Darl seen that it looked like one of us would have to do something, I can almost believe he done right in a way. But I dont reckon nothing excuses setting fire to a man"s barn and endangering his stock and destroying his property. That"s how I reckon a man is crazy. That"s how he cant see eye to eye with other folks. And I reckon they aint nothing else to do with him but what the most folks says is right.
But it"s a shame, in a way. Folks seems to get away from the olden right teaching that says to drive the nails down and trim the edges well always Like it was for your own use and comfort you were making it. It"s like some folks has the smooth, pretty boards to build a courthouse with and others dont have no more than rough lumber fitten to build a chicken coop. But it"s better to build a tight chicken coop than a shoddy courthouse, and when they both build shoddy or build well, neither because it"s one or toothier is going to make a man feel the better nor the worse.
So we went up the street, toward the square, and he said, "We better take Cash to the doctor first. We can leave him there and come back for him." That"s it. It"s because me and him was born close together, and it nigh ten years before Jewel and Dewey Dell and Vardaman begun to come along. I feel kin to them, all right, but I dont know. And me being the oldest, and thinking already the very thing that he done: I dont know.
Pa was looking at me, then at him, mumbling his mouth.
"Go on," I said. "We"ll get it done first."
"She would want us all there," pa says.
"Let"s take Cash to the doctor first," Darl said. "She"ll Wait. She"s already waited nine days."
"You all dont know," pa says. "The somebody you was young with and you growed old in her and she growed old in you, seeing the old coming on and it was the one somebody you could hear say it dont matter and know it was the truth outen the hard world and all a man"s grief and trials. You all dont know."
"We got the digging to do, too," I said.
"Armstid and Gillespie both told you to send word ahead," Darl said. "Dont you want to go to Peabody"s now, Cash?"
"Go on," I said. "It feels right easy now. It"s best to get things done in the right place."
"If it was just dug," pa says. "We forgot our spade, too."
"Yes," Darl said. "I"ll go to the hardware store. We"ll have to buy one."
"It"ll cost money," pa says.
"Do you begrudge her it?" Darl says.
"Go on and get a spade," Jewel said. "Here. Give me the money."
But pa didn"t stop. "I reckon we can get a spade," he said. "I reckon there are Christians here." So Darl set still and we went on, with Jewel squatting on the tail-gate, watching the back of Darl"s head. He looked like one of these bull dogs, one of these dogs that dont bark none, squatting against the rope, watching the thing he was waiting to jump at.
He set that way all the time we was in front of Mrs Bundren"s house, hearing the music, watching the back of Darl"s head with them hard white eyes of hisn.
The music was playing in the house. It was one of them graphophones. It was natural as a music-band.
"Do you want to go to Peabody"s?" Darl said. "They can wait here and tell pa, and I"11 drive you to Peabody"s and come back for them."
"No," I said. It was better to get her underground, now we was this close, just waiting until pa borrowed the shovel. He drove along the street until we could hear the music.
"Maybe they got one here," he said. He pulled up at Mrs Bundren"s. It was like he knowed. Sometimes I think that if a working man could see work as far ahead as a lazy man can see laziness. So he stopped there like he knowed, before that little new house, where the music was. We waited there, hearing it. I believe I could have d.i.c.kered Suratt down to five dollars on that one of his. It"s a comfortable thing, music is. "Maybe they got one here," pa says.
"You want Jewel to go," Darl says, "or do you reckon I better?"
"I reckon I better," pa says. He got down and went up the path and around the house to the back. The music stopped, then it started again.
"He"ll get it, too," Darl said.
"Ay," I said. It was just like he knowed, like he could see through the walls and into the next ten minutes.
Only it was more than ten minutes. The music stopped and never commenced again for a good spell, where her and pa was talking at the back. We waited in the wagon.
"You let me take you back to Peabody"s," Darl said.
"No," I said. "We"ll get her underground."
"If he ever gets back," Jewel said. He begun to cuss. He started to get down from the wagon. "I"m going," he said.
Then we saw pa coming back. He had two spades, coming around the house. He laid them in the wagon and got in and we went on. The music never started again. Pa was looking back at the house. He kind of lifted his hand a little and I saw the shade pulled back a little at the window and her face in it.
But the curiousest thing was Dewey Dell. It surprised me. I see all the while how folks could say he was queer, but that was the very reason couldn"t n.o.body hold it personal. It was like he was outside of it too, same as you, and getting mad at it would be kind of like getting mad at a mud-puddle that splashed you when you stepped in it. And then I always kind of had a idea that him and Dewey Dell kind of knowed things betwixt them. If I"d a said it was ere a one of us she liked better than ere a other, I"d a said it was Darl. But when we got it filled and covered and drove out the gate and turned into the lane where them fellows was waiting, when they come out and come on him and he jerked back, it was Dewey Dell that was on him before even Jewel could get at him. And then I believed I knowed how Gillespie knowed about how his barn taken fire.
She hadn"t said a word, hadn"t even looked at him, but when them fellows told him what they wanted and that they had come to get him and he throwed back, she jumped on him like a wild cat so that one of the fellows had to quit and hold her and her scratching and clawing at him Like a wild cat, while the other one and pa and Jewel throwed Darl down and held him lying on his back, looking up at me.
"I thought you would have told me," he said. "I never thought you wouldn"t have."
"Darl," I said. But he fought again, him and Jewel and the fellow, and the other one holding Dewey Dell and Vardaman yelling and Jewel saying, "Kill him. Kill the son of a b.i.t.c.h."
It was bad so. It was bad. A fellow cant get away from a shoddy job. He cant do it. I tried to tell him, but he just said, "I thought you"d a told me. It"s not that I," he said, then he begun to laugh. The other fellow pulled Jewel off of him and he sat there on the ground, laughing.
I tried to tell him. If I could have just moved, even set up. But I tried to tell him, and he quit laughing, looking up at me.
"Do you want me to go?" he said.
"It"ll be better for you," I said. "Down there it"ll be quiet, with none of the bothering and such. It"ll be better for you, Darl," I said.
"Better," he said. He begun to laugh again. "Better," he said. He couldn"t hardly say it for laughing. He sat on the ground and us watching him, laughing and laughing. It was bad. It was bad so. I be durn if I could see anything to laugh at. Because there just aint nothing justifies the deliberate destruction of what a man has built with his own sweat and stored the fruit of his sweat into.
But I aint so sho that ere a man has the right to say what is crazy and what aint. It"s like there was a fellow in every man that"s done a-past the sanity or the insanity, that watches the sane and the insane doings of that man with the same horror and the same astonishment.
Peabody
I said, "I reckon a man in a tight might let Bill Varner patch him up like a d.a.m.n mule, but I be d.a.m.ned if the man that"d let Anse Bundren treat him with raw cement aint got more spare legs than I have."
"They just aimed to ease hit some," he said.
"Aimed, h.e.l.l," I said. "What in h.e.l.l did Armstid mean by even letting them put you on that wagon again?"
"Hit was gittin right noticeable," he said. "We never had time to wait." I just looked at him. "Hit never bothered me none," he said.
"Dont you lie there and try to tell me you rode six days on a wagon without springs, with a broken leg and it never bothered you."
"It never bothered me much," he said.
"You mean, it never bothered Anse much," I said. "No more than it bothered him to throw that poor devil down in the public street and handcuff him like a d.a.m.n murderer. Dont tell me. And dont tell me it aint going to bother you to lose sixty-odd square inches of skin to get that concrete off. And dont tell me it aint going to bother you to have to limp around on one short leg for the balance of your life--if you walk at all again. Concrete," I said. "G.o.d Amighty, why didn"t Anse carry you to the nearest sawmill and stick your leg in the saw? That would have cured it. Then you all could have stuck his head into the saw and cured a whole family . . . Where is Anse, anyway? What"s lie up to now?"
"He"s takin back them spades he borrowed," he said.
"That"s right," I said. "Of course he"d have to borrow a spade to bury his wife with. Unless he could borrow a hole in the ground. Too bad you all didn"t put him in it too . . . Does that hurt?"
"Not to speak of," he said, and the sweat big as marbles running down his face and his face about the color of blotting paper.
"Course not," I said. "About next summer you can hobble around fine on this leg. Then it wont bother you, not to speak of ... If you had anything you could call luck, you might say it was lucky this is the same leg you broke before," I said.
"Hit"s what paw says," he said.
MacGowan
It happened I am back of the prescription case, pouring up some chocolate sauce, when Jody comes back and says, "Say, Skeet, there"s a woman up front that wants to see the doctor and when I said What doctor you want to see, she said she wants to see the doctor that works here and when I said There aint any doctor works here, she just stood there, looking back this way."
"What kind of a woman is it?" I says. "Tell her to go upstairs to Alford"s office."
"Country woman," he says.
"Send her to the courthouse," I says. "Tell her all the doctors have gone to Memphis to a Barbers" Convention."
"All right," he says, going away. "She looks pretty good for a country girl," he says.
"Wait," I says. He waited and I went and peeped through the crack. But I couldn"t tell nothing except she had a good leg against the light. "Is she young, you say?" I says.
"She looks like a pretty hot mamma, for a country girl," he says.
"Take this," I says, giving him the chocolate. I took off my ap.r.o.n and went up there. She looked pretty good. One of them black eyed ones that look like she"d as soon put a knife in you as not if you two-timed her. She looked pretty good. There wasn"t n.o.body else in the store; it was dinner time.
"What can I do for you?" I says.
"Are you the doctor?" she says.
"Sure," I says. She quit looking at me and was kind of looking around.
"Can we go back yonder?" she says.