Nunley looked blank for a moment, then brightened up a little and said, “Got a good penknife.”
“Let me see it,” the pimp said. The knife was just a plaything with a crack in the handle, but it had been another slow night. Yesterday, he had knocked on the door at the clap doctor’s house intending to try to bribe him into easing up a bit on his lectures, but no sooner than he introduced himself, the man jerked a paper mask from his pocket and covered his face with it, then ordered him off his property. As if he, Blackie Beeler, was carrying some vile disease. He looked over at Henry and shrugged his shoulders. “Hand me the money,” he told the drunk. After a quick glance at the coins, he nodded toward the tents. “First one back.”
Nunley looked toward the barn, wiped his sleeve across his lips. “What’s her name?” he asked.
“Esther,” Blackie said. “Now go on, you got yourself ten minutes whether you’re done or not.”
“Ten minutes?”
“What do ye expect for a busted-up knife and three quarters?”
“Well, shit, I—”
“Don’t worry,” Henry told the man. “You won’t want no more than that once Esther wraps them big legs around ye. I guarantee it.”
—
BACK AT THE Blind Owl, Pollard shook the jar one more time, then set it down on the floor. He raised up and reached into his shirt pocket, took out a small brown bottle capped with an eyedropper. Sleep had never come easy to him, and lately the only time it came at all was when he dosed himself with some stuff he’d gotten from Caldwell, the druggist over on Walnut Street. After squeezing three drops onto his tongue, he put the bottle back in his pocket. Free pussy, he said to himself. Ha. Only a stupid sonofabitch from McArthur would ever believe something like that. He lay there awhile with his eyes closed, then reached over and picked up the jar again. Fuck that town. Someday he’d go back there and set fire to the whole goddamn place.
41
THE SUN WAS coming through the loft door when Cane and Chimney finally woke up, a little stiff from having slept so long. They could hear Eula’s chickens scratching and clucking below them. Climbing down the ladder, they discovered that Cob was gone. “See?” Chimney said. “I told you. You got to watch the fat-ass every minute.”
“He must be in the house,” Cane said.
“Yeah,” Chimney said, “probably spillin’ his guts.”
“Nah, he’s sharper than you give him credit for. Come on, I’ll show ye.”
They found Cob at the kitchen table stuffing grits and eggs into his mouth. Eula was sitting across from him drinking a cup of coffee. “Good mornin’, Tom,” he said. “Mornin’, Hollis.”
“Just give me a minute and I’ll get your breakfast,” Eula said, getting up and going to the stove.
“How did ye sleep, Tom?” Cob asked.
“Like a rock.”
“What about you, Cousin Hollis?”
“Pretty good, I reckon.”
“How’s the leg feelin’ this morning, Junior?” Cane said.
“A lot better than yesterday, I’ll tell you that. Miss Eula’s a regular nurse.”
Chimney looked into the parlor. “Where’s the ol’…where’s Mr. Fiddler?”
“Oh, he’s been gone a couple hours,” Eula said, as she cracked some eggs into a bowl.
“Gone?” Chimney asked, shooting a look toward Cane. “Where’d he go?”
“Down the road a ways. He’s wantin’ to get another five acres of corn cut today.”
“By himself?” Cane said.
Eula shrugged. “Well, with Eddie gone, he don’t have much choice.”
“That’s a hard job for one man.”
“I know,” she said. “You saw him last night. Couldn’t hardly stay awake.”
An hour later, as they sat on the front porch sipping coffee and staring out upon the road, Cane suddenly said to Chimney, “I think we should help that old man with his crop.” From inside the house, they heard Eula ask “Junior” if he wanted another biscuit.
“Oh, no, not me, brother. I’ve already told ye, my days of slavin’ in a field are over with.”
Putting down his cup, Cane reached over and grabbed hold of Chimney’s hands. “Look at these,” he said, turning the palms up. “Soft as a banker’s.”
“So?”
“Shit, you don’t want to get like one of them bastards, do ye?”
“Forget it,” Chimney said, jerking his hands away. “We’re payin’ them good money to stay here. And besides, I thought we was supposed to be resting up.”
“What about this,” Cane said, glancing around to make sure Eula wasn’t within hearing distance. “We give him a couple good days and then we’ll take off for this Meade he was talking about and get you a woman. That’ll work, won’t it?”
“But why should we even give a shit? Heck, sounds to me like his own boy bailed on him.”
“I don’t know. They just sort of remind me of what Mother and Pap might have been like if she had lived. You don’t remember them like I do. Things were different back when she was around.”