"I"ll fetch yer dog," blurted Bart Alpers.
"Non!" Taliaferro said. "Cesar must have had a little cramp. He will stay outside till he is better."
"Warn"t no cramp, Francine, honey," M"Donald growled. "Hit war this sonuvab.i.t.c.h here what done it!"
He pushed Alpers aside.
"What d"ye reckon happint t" Cesar, M"Donald?" Old Nathan said. The farmer was younger by thirty years and strong, but he hadn"t the personality to make a threat frightening even when he spoke the flat truth. "D"ye want t" touch me "n larn?"
M"Donald stumbled backward from the bluff-for it was all bluff, what Old Nathan had done to the dog had wrung him out bad as lifting a quarter of beef. But the words had this much truth in them: those who struck the cunning man would pay for the blow, in one way or another; and pay in coin they could ill afford.
"I don"t believe we"ve been introduced," said the woman. She held out her hand. The appraisal was back in her eyes. "I"m Francine Taliaferro, but do call me Francine. I"m-en vacance in your charming community."
"He ain"t no good t" ye," M"Donald muttered bitterly, his face turned to a display of b.u.t.tons on a piece of card.
The cunning man took Taliaferro"s hand, though he wasn"t rightly sure what she expected him to do with it. There were things he knew, plenty of things and important ones; but right just now, he understood why other men reacted as they did to Francine Taliaferro.
"M" name"s Nathan. I live down the road a piece, Columbia ways."
Even a man with a woman like Ellie waiting at home for him.
"I reckon this gen"lman come here t" do business, Rance," said Mrs. Holden to her husband in a poisonous tone of voice. "Don"t ye reckon ye ought t" he"p him?"
"I"ll he"p him, Maude," Holden muttered, trying-and he knew he would fail-to interrupt the rest of the diatribe. He was a large, soft man, and his hair had been white for years. "Now, how kin-"
"Ye are a storekeeper, ain"t ye?" Mrs. Holden shrilled. "Not some spavined ole fool thinks spring has come again!"
Holden rested his hands on the counter. His eyes were downcast. One of the other men chuckled.
"Now, Nathan," the storekeeper resumed. "Reckon you"re here fer more coffee?"
The cunning man opened his mouth to say he"d take a peck of coffee and another of baking soda. He didn"t need either just now, but he"d use them both and they"d serve as an excuse for him to have come into Oak Hill.
"Ye"ve got an iv"ry comb," he said. The words he spoke weren"t the ones he"d had in mind at all.
"Reckon I"ll hev thet and call us quits fer me clearin" the rats outen yer barn last fall."
Everyone in the store except Holden himself stared at Old Nathan. The storekeeper winced and, with his eyes still on his hands, said, "I reckon thet comb, hit must hev been sold. I"d like t" he"p ye."
"Whoiver bought thet thing!" cried the storekeeper"s wife in amazement. She turned to the niche on the wall behind the counter, where items of special value were flanked to either side by racks of yard goods.
The two crystal goblets remained, but they had been moved inward to cover the s.p.a.ce where the ornate ivory comb once stood.
Mrs. Holden"s eyes narrowed. "Rance Holden, you go look through all the drawers this minute. n.o.body bought thet comb and you know it!"
"Waal, mebbe hit was stole," Holden muttered. He half-heartedly pulled out one of the drawers behind the counter and poked with his fingers at the hairpins and brooches within.
The cunning man smiled grimly. "Reckon I kin he"p ye," he said.
He reached over the counter and took one of the pins, ivory like the comb for which he was searching.
The pin"s blunt end was flattened and drilled into a filigree for decoration. He held the design between the tips of his index fingers, pressing just hard enough to keep the pin pointed out horizontally.
"What is this that you are doing, then?" Francine Taliaferro asked in puzzlement.
The other folk in the store knew Old Nathan. Their faces were set in gradations between fear and interest, depending on the varied fashions in which they viewed the cunning man"s arts.
Old Nathan swept the pin over the counter. Midway it dipped, then rose again.
"Check the drawers there," the cunning man directed. He moved the hairpin back until it pointed straight down. "Reckon hit"s in the bottom one."
"Why, whut would that iv"ry pin be doin" down there with the women"s shoes?" Mrs. Holden demanded.
"Look, I tell ye, I"ll pay ye cash fer what ye did with the rats," the storekeeper said desperately. "How much "ud ye take? Jest name-"
He was standing in front of the drawer Old Nathan had indicated. His wife jerked it open violently, banging it against Holden"s instep twice and a third time until he hopped away, wincing.
Mrs. Holden straightened, holding a packet wrapped with tissue paper and blue ribbon. It was of a size to contain the comb.
She started to undo the ribbon. Her face was red with fury.
Old Nathan put his hand out. "Reckon I"ll take it the way i"tis," he said.
"How d"ye guess the comb happint t" be all purtied up "n hid like thet, Rance?" Bart Alpers said loudly.
"Look to me like hit were a present fer som"body, if ye could git her alone."
Francine Taliaferro raised her chin. "I know nothing of this," she said coldly.
Rance Holden took the packet from his wife"s hands and gave it to Old Nathan. "I figger this makes us quits fer the rats," he said in a dull voice. He was slumped like a man who"d been fed his breakfast at the small end of a rifle.
"Thankee," Old Nathan said. "I reckon thet does."
The shouting behind him started before the cunning man had unhitched his mule. The timbre of Mrs.
Holden"s voice was as sharp and cutting as that of Francine Taliaferro"s lapdog.
Taking the comb didn"t make a lick of sense, except that it showed the world what a blamed fool G.o.d had made of Rance Holden.
Old Nathan rode along, muttering to himself. It would have been awkward to carry the packet in his hand, but once he"d set the fancy bit of frippery down into a saddle basket, that didn"t seem right either.
Might best that he sank the durn thing in the branch, because there wasn"t ought he could do with the comb that wouldn"t make him out to be a worse fool than Rance. . . .
The mule was following its head onto the cabin trail. Suddenly its ears c.o.c.ked forward and its leading foot hesitated a step. Through the woods came, "Froggie wint a-courtin", he did ride. . . ."
"Hey, thur!" called the mule.
"Oh, hit"s you come back, is it?" Bully Ransden"s horse whinnied in reply. "I jest been down yer way."
Horse and mule came nose to nose around a bend fringed by dogwood and alders. The riders watched one another: Old Nathan stiff and ready for trouble, but the younger man as cheerful as a cat with a mouse for a toy.
"Glad t" see ye, Nathan old feller," Bully Ransden said.
He kneed his mount forward to bring himself alongside the cunning man, left knee to left knee. The two men were much of a height, but the horse stood taller than the mule and increased the impression of Ransden"s far greater bulk. "I jest dropped by in a neighborly way," he continued, "t" warn ye there"s been prowlers up t" my place. Ye might want t" stick close about yer own."
He grinned. His teeth were square and evenly set. They had taken the nose off a drover who"d wrongly thought he was a tougher man than Bully Ransden.
This afternoon Ransden wore canvas breeches and a loose-hanging shirt of gray homespun. The garment"s cut had the effect of emphasizing Bully"s muscular build, whereas the undersized frock coat had merely made him look constrained.
"I thankee," Old Nathan said stiffly. He wished Bully Ransden would stop glancing toward the saddle basket, where he might notice the ribbon-tied packet. "Reckon I kin deal with sech folk as sneak by whin I"m gone."
He wished he were forty years younger, and even then he"d be a lucky man to avoid being crippled in a rough and tumble with Bully Ransden. This one was cat-quick, had shoulders like an ox . . . and once the fight started, Bully Ransden didn"t quit so long as the other fellow still could move.
Ransden"s horse eyed Old Nathan, then said to the mule, "Yer feller ain"t goin" t" do whativer hit was he did last night, is he? I cain"t much say I liked thet."
"Didn"t much like hit myse"f," the mule agreed morosely. "He ain"t a bad old feller most ways, though."
"Like I said," Ransden grinned. "Jest a neighborly warnin". Y" see, I been leavin" my rifle-gun t" home most times whin I"m out "n about . . . but I don"t figger t" do thet fer a while. I reckon if I ketch someb"dy hangin" round my cabin, I"ll shoot him same"s I would a dog chasin" my hens."
Old Nathan looked up to meet the younger man"s eyes. "Mebbe," he said deliberately, "you"re goin" t"
stay home "n till yer own plot fer a time?"
"Oh, land!" whickered the horse, reacting to the sudden tension. "Now it"ll come sure!"
For a moment, Old Nathan thought the same thing . . . and thought the result was going to be very bad.
Sometimes you couldn"t help being afraid, but that was a reason itself to act as fear warned you not to.
Ransden shook his head violently, as if he were a horse trying to brush away a gadfly. His hair was shoulder length and the color of sourwood honey. The locks tossed in a shimmering dance.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the mood changed. Bully Ransden began to laugh. "Ye know," he said good-humoredly, "ifen you were a man, I might take unkindly t" words like thet. Seeins as yer a poor womanly critter, though, I don"t reckon I will."
He kicked his horse a step onward, then reined up again as if to prove his mastery. The animal nickered in complaint.
"Another li"l warning, old man," Ransden called playfully over his shoulder. "Ye hadn"t ought t" smoke meat on too hot uv a fire. You might shrink hit right up."
Ransden spurred his mount forward, jerking the left rein at the same time. The horse"s flank jolted solidly against the mule"s hindquarters, knocking the lighter animal against an oak sapling.
"Hey thur, you!" the mule brayed angrily.
"Sword "n pistol by his side!" Bully Ransden caroled as he trotted his horse down the trail.
"Waal," said the mule as he resumed his measured pace toward the cabin, "I"m glad that"s ended."
"D"ye think it is, mule?" the cunning man asked softly. "From the way the Bully was talkin", I reckon he jest managed t" start it fer real."
The two cows were placidly chewing their cud in the railed paddock behind the cabin. "Thar"s been another feller come by here," the red heifer offered between rhythmic, sideways strokes of her jaws.
"Wouldn"t milk us, though," the black heifer added. " "Bout time somebody does, ifen ye ask me."
"Don"t recall askin" ye any blame thing," Old Nathan muttered.
He dismounted and uncinched the saddle. "Don"t "spect ye noticed what the feller might be doin" whilst he was here, did ye?" he asked as if idly.
"Ye goin" t" strip us now?" the black demanded. "My udder"s full as full, it is."
"He wint down t" the crik," the red offered. "Carried a fish down t" the crik."
Old Nathan dropped two gate bars and led the mule into the enclosure with the cows. His face was set.
"Criks is whur fish belong," the black heifer said. "Only I wish they didn"t nibble at my teats whin I"m standing thur, cooling myse"f."
"This fish don"t nibble airy soul," the red heifer explained in a superior tone. "This fish were dead "n dry."
Old Nathan removed the mule"s bridle and patted the beast on the haunch. "Git some hay," he said. "I"ll give ye a handful uv oats presently. I reckon afore long you "n me goin" t" take another ride, though."
"Whyever do a durn fool thing like that?" the mule complained. "Ye kin ride a cow the next time. I"m plumb tuckered out."
" "Bout time," the black heifer repeated with emphasis, "thet you milk us!"
The cunning man paused, halfway to his back porch, and turned. "I"ll be with ye presently," he said. "I ain"t in a mood t" be pushed, so I"d advise ye as a friend thet y"all not push me."
The cows heard the tone and looked away, as though they were studying the movements of a late-season b.u.t.terfly across the paddock. The mule muttered, "Waal, I reckon I wouldn"t mind a bit uv a walk, come t" thet."
The cat sauntered through the front door of the cabin as Old Nathan entered by the back. "Howdy, old man," the cat said. "I wouldn"t turn down a bite of somp"in if it was goin"."
"I"ll hev ye a cup uv milk if ye"ll wait fer it," the cunning man said as he knelt to look at the smoke shelf of his fireplace. The greenwood fire had burnt well down, but there was no longer any reason to build it higher.
The large catfish was gone, as Old Nathan had expected. In its place was a bullhead less than six inches long; one of those Ransden had bought in town the day before, though he could scarcely have thought that Ellie believed he"d spent the evening fishing.
"What"s thet?" the cat asked curiously.
Old Nathan removed the bullhead from the shelf. "Somethin" a feller left me," he said.
The bullhead hadn"t been a prepossessing creature even before it spent a day out of water. Now its smooth skin had begun to shrivel and its eyes were sunken in; the eight barbels lay like a knot of desiccated worms.
"He took the fish was there and tossed hit in the branch, I reckon," he added in a dreamy voice, holding the bullhead and thinking of a time to come shortly. "He warn"t a thief, he jest wanted t" make his point with me."
"Hain"t been cleaned "n it"s gittin" good "n ripe," the cat noted, licking his lips. "Don"t figger you want it, but you better believe I do."
"Sorry, cat," the cunning man said absently. He set the bullhead on the fireboard to wait while he got together the other traps he would need. Ellie Ransden would have a hand mirror, so he needn"t take his own. . . .
"Need t" milk the durn cows, too," he muttered aloud.
The cat stretched up the wall beside the hearth. He was not really threatening to s.n.a.t.c.h the bullhead, but he wasn"t far away in case the cunning man walked out of the cabin and left the fish behind. "Whativer do you figger t" do with thet ole thing?" he complained.