Pop. 1280

He held himself straight and tight-lipped as we left, still as pale as a ghost. Then, just as we stepped out the door, Henry Clay Fanning latched hold of him.

That Henry Clay was a real case, what we call a cotton-patch lawyer down here. He knew all the privileges he was entitled to-and maybe three or four million others besides-but he didn't have much sense of his obligations. None of his fourteen kids had ever been to school, because making kids go to school was interferin' with a man's constitutional rights. Four of his seven girls, all of 'em that were old enough to be, were pregnant. And he wouldn't allow no one to ask 'em how they'd got that way, because that was his legal responsibility, it was a father's job to care for his children's morals, and he didn't have to tolerate any interference.

Of course, everyone had a pretty good idea who'd gotten those girls pregnant. But under the circumstances, there wasn't any way of proving it, and with Henry Clay being kind of mean-tempered no one talked much about it.

So here he was now, exercisin' his rights again. Grabbing Robert Lee Jefferson by the arm and whirling him around.

"Now, you see here, Robert Lee," he said. "Maybe that doggone Nick Corey don't know the law, but you do and you know god-dang well I'm entitled to a reeward. I-"

"What?" Robert Lee started at him. "What did you say?"

"County pays a ree-ward for corpses pulled out of the river, don't they? So why don't I get a bounty for finding these? I not only found 'em, I haul 'em all the way into town an' get nigger blood all over my wagon, an'-"

"Answer me, you incestuous skunk! Did you address me as Robert Lee?"

Henry Clay said sure, he called him that, and what about it, "What you mean callin' me a-"

Robert Lee hit him in the mouth. Henry Clay sailed off the sidewalk, and landed in the mud on his back. His eyes were open, but he didn't stir. Just lay there, breathing with a snuffling sound because of his bloody nose and mouth.

Robert Lee dusted his hands, nodded to me and entered his store. I followed him back to his office.

"Now, I feel better," he sighed, sinking down in a chair. "I've been wanting to punch that dirty cur for years, and he finally gave me an excuse."

I said I guessed Henry Clay didn't really know a lot about law, after all. "If he did, he'd know that calling you by your first name would be laying a predicate for justifiable assault."

"What?" He gave me a startled look. "I'm not sure! understood you."

"Nothin'," I said. "You sure gave him a punch, Robert Lee."

"Wasn't it a beaut? I only wish I'd broken his filthy neck."

"Maybe you'd better be kind of careful for a while," I said. "Henry Clay might try to get back at you."

Robert Lee snorted. "He doesn't have the nerve, but I wish he did. That's one man I'd enjoy killing. Imagine him calling me by my first name!"

"Yeah," I said, "just imagine that!"

"Now, about this other matter, Tom and Uncle John, I don't see much point in impaneling a coroner's jury in such a clear-cut case. The facts seem obvious enough, don't you agree?"

"Well, it sure is a clear-cut case," I said. "I don't know as I've ever seen such a clear-cut case of killing."

"Exactly. And everyone I've talked to has the same opinion. Of course, if Rose should insist on an inquest…"

"Or Uncle John's kinfolks…"

"Oh, now-" Robert Lee laughed. "Let's not be ridiculous, Nick."

"I say something funny?" I said.

"Well, uh," said Robert Lee, sort of clearing his throat. "Perhaps I chose the wrong word. I should have said impractical."

I looked blank, and asked just what did he mean, anyways? He snapped back that I knew very well what he meant. "No doctor is going to do a post mortem on a Negro. Why, you can't get a doctor to touch a live Negro, let alone a dead one."

"I reckon you're right," I said. "Just in case we had to, though, and I'm just asking for information, do you suppose you could get out a court order t'make a doctor do his duty?"

"We-el"-Robert Lee leaned back and pursed his lips-"I imagine that's something that one could do de jure, but not de facto. In other words you'd have a paradox-the legal right to do something that was factually impossible of accomplishment."

I said I'd be god-danged, he was sure one heck of a smart man. "I reckon my head's plumb bustin' from all these things you been tellin' me, Robbie Lee. Maybe I better run along before you give me some more information, an' it pops wide open."

"Now, you're flattering me," he beamed, standing up as I did, "which reminds me that I should compliment you on your conduct in today's affair. You handled it very well, Nick."

"Why, thank you kindly, Robert Lee," I said. "How does the election look to you by now, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I think you're a cinch to win, in view of the unfortunate talk about Sam Gaddis. Just keep on doing your job, like you did today."

"Oh, I will," I said. "I'll keep on exactly like that."

I left the hardware store, and sauntered back toward the courthouse, stopping now and then to talk to people, or rather to let them talk to me. Almost everyone had about the same idea about the killing as Robert Lee Jefferson. Almost everyone agreed that it was an open and shut case, with Uncle John killing Tom and then Tom, dead as he was, killing Uncle John. Or vice versa.

About the only people who didn't see it that way, or said they didn't, were some loafers. They wanted a coroner's jury impaneled, and they were ready and willin' to serve on it. But if they were that hard up for a couple of dollars, I figured they hadn't paid their poll tax, so what they thought didn't matter.

Rose had heard the news from probably two, three hundred people by the time I got back to the courthouse, and Myra said I had get out to the Hauck place right away and bring Rose into town.

"Now, please hurry, for once in your life, Nick! The poor thing is terribly upset!"

"Why for is she upset?" I said. "You mean because Tom is dead?"

"Of course, I mean that! What else would I mean?"

"Well, I was just wonderin'," I said. "She was terribly upset last night when she thought he might becomin' home, and now she's terribly upset because she knows he ain't. Don't seem to make much sense somehow."

"Now, just you never mind!" Myra snapped. "Don't you dare start arguing with me, Nick Corey! You just do what I tell you to, or you won't make much sense! Not that you ever did, anyway."

I got the horse and buggy and drove out toward the Hauck farm, thinking to myself that a fella hardly got one problem settled before he had to take care of another one. Maybe I should have foreseen that Rose would be coming in and staying with Myra and me tonight, but I hadn't. I'd had too many other things on my mind. So now I was supposed to see Amy tonight- I'd just better see her if I ever wanted to see her again. And I was also supposed to stay at home-Rose would think it was god-danged peculiar if I didn't. And I just didn't know what the heck I was going to do.

They were a real problem, Rose and Amy. A lot bigger problem than I realized.

The farm house was all steamy and kind of smelly when Rose let me in. She apologized for it, nodding toward the black dress that was hung up over the stove.

"I had to give it a hurry-up dye job, honey. But the goddam thing ought to be dry pretty soon. You want to come into the bedroom, and wait?"

I followed her into the bedroom and she started taking off her shoes and stockings, which was all she had on. I said, "Looky, honey. Maybe we shouldn't do this right now."

"Huh?" She frowned at me. "Why the hell not?"

"Well, you know," I said. "You're just now officially a widow. It just don't seem decent to hop in bed with a woman when she ain't hardly been a widow an hour."

"What the hell's the difference? You slept with me before I was a widow?"

"Well, sure," I said. "But everybody does things like that. You might say it was even kind of a compliment to a woman. But this way, when a woman ain't been a widow long enough to get her weeds wet, it just ain't respectful. I mean, after all, they's certain proprieties to observe, and a decent fella don't hop right on a brand-new widow any more than a decent brand-new widow lets him."

She hesitated, studying me, but finally she nodded.

"Well, maybe you're right, Nick. Christ knows I've always done my goddam best to be respectable, in spite of that son-of-a-bitch I was married to."

"Why sure you have," I said. "Don't I know that, Rose?"

"So we'll wait until tonight. After Myra goes to sleep, I mean."

"Well," I said. "Well, uh-"

"And now I am going to tell you a surprise." She gave me a hug, eyes dancing. "It won't be long now before we can forget about Myra. You can get a divorce from the old bag-Christ knows you've got plenty of grounds-or we can just say to hell with her and leave here. Because we're going to have plenty of money, Nick. Plenty!"

"Whoa, whoa now!" I said. "What the heck are you sayin', honey?" And she laughed, and told me how it was.

Back in the beginning, when Tom was still sugarin' up to her, he'd taken out a ten-thousand-dollar insurance policy. Ten thousand, double indemnity. After a year or so, when being nice got tiresome, he'd said to hell with the policy and to hell with her. But she'd kept up the premiums herself, paying for them out of her butter and egg money. Now, since Tom had been killed instead of dying a natural death, she'd collect under the double-indemnity clause. A whole twenty thousand dollars.

"Isn't it wonderful, honey?" She hugged me again. "And that's only part of it. This is damned good farm land, even if that son-of-a-bitch was such a no-good bastard that he never put any improvements on it. Even at a forced sale, it ought to bring ten or twelve thousand dollars, and with that much money, why-"

"Now, wait a minute," I said. "Not so fast, honey. We can't-"

"But we can, Nick! What the hell's to stop us?"

"You just think about it," I said. "Think how it would look to other people. Your husband gets killed and right away you're a rich woman. He gets killed and you profit by it plenty, and you tie up with another man before his body's hardly cold. You don't think that folks would wonder about that a little! You don't think they might get some alarmin' ideas about her and this other man and her husband's death?"

"We-el…" Rose nodded. "I suppose you're right, Nick. How long do you think we'll have to wait before it will be safe?"

"I'd say a year or two, anyways," I said. "Prob'ly two years would be best."

Rose said she didn't think two years would be best. Not for her it wasn't. One year was going to be a goddamned plenty to wait, and she wasn't sure she'd even wait that long.

"But we got to! My gosh, honey," I said. "We can't take no chances, right when we've got everything the way we want it. That wouldn't make no sense, now would it?"

"Everything isn't the way I want it! Not by a hell of a long shot!"

"But looky, looky, honey," I said. "You just agreed that we had to be god-danged careful, and now you-"

"Oh, all right," Rose laughed, kind of pouting. "I'll try to be sensible, Nick. But don't you forget I've got my brand on you. Don't you forget it for a minute!"

"Why, honey," I said. "What a thing to say! Why for would I want another woman when I've got you?"

"I mean it, Nick! I mean every word of it!"

I said sure, I knew she did, so what was she carryin' on about? She untensed a little, and patted me on the cheek.

"I'm sorry, honey. We'll see each other tonight, hmmm? You know, after Myra's gone to sleep."

"I don't see no reason why not," I said, wishing to gosh I could see a reason.

"Mmm! I can hardly wait!" she kissed me and jumped up. "I wonder if that goddam dress is dry yet."

It was dry. Probably a heck of a lot dryer than I was, what with all the sweating I was doing. I thought to myself, Nick Corey, how in the good gosh-dang do you get in these god-dang messes? You got to be with Rose tonight; you just don't dare not to be with her. And you got to be with Amy Mason tonight. Anyway, you're sure aching to be with Amy, even if you don't have to be. So-

But I did have to be.

I just didn't know it yet.

16

Myra was waiting for us at the head of the stairs when me and Rose arrived, and the two of 'em practically fell into each other's arms. Myra said, you poor, poor dear, and Rose said, oh, what would I ever do without you, Myra, and then they both busted out bawling.

Myra made the most noise, of course, even though it was more Rose's place to do it, and she'd been practising all the way into town. There just wasn't no one that could beat Myra when it came to noisemaking. She started to steer Rose into her bedroom, her eyes on Rose instead of where she was going, and she bumped spang into Lennie. She whirled and gave him a slap that almost made me hurt. Then she hit him again because he yelled.

"Now, you shut up!" she warned him. "Just shut up and behave yourself. Poor Rose has enough trouble without putting up with your racket!"

Lennie clenched his teeth to keep from bawling; I almost felt kind of sorry for him. Fact is, I felt real sorry for him, but right while I was doing it, I felt something else. Because that's the way I am, I guess. I start feeling sorry for people, like Rose, for example, or even Myra or Uncle John or, well, lots of folks, and the way it eventually works out is it'd be a lot better if I hadn't felt sorry for them. Better for them, I mean. And I guess that's natural enough, you know? Because when you're sorry for someone, you want to help them, and when it sinks in on you that you can't, that there's too god-danged many of them, that everywhere you look there's someone, millions of someones, and you're only one man an' no one else cares an'-an'-

We were having an oven supper that night, which was a good thing since Myra was so long in the bedroom with Rose. Finally, they came out, and I patted Rose on the shoulder and told her she'd have to be brave. She rested her head against my chest for a moment, like she just couldn't help herself, and I gave her another pat.

"Now, that's right, Nick," Myra said. "You just take care of Rose, and I'll get supper on."

"I'll sure do that," I said, "me an' Lennie'll both take care of her, won't we, Lennie?"

Lennie scowled, blaming Rose naturally because Myra had hit him. Myra gave him a frown and told him he'd better watch his step. Then she went into the kitchen to take up supper.

It was god-danged good, being a company meal. Rose remembered to bust into tears now and then, and say that she just couldn't eat a bite. But she couldn't have put away much more without letting out her dress.

Myra filled up our coffee cups, and brought in dessert, two kinds of pie and a chocolate cake. Rose had some of each, shedding a few tears at intervals to show that she was just forcin' herself.

We finished eating. Rose got up to help, but of course, Myra wouldn't hear of it.

"No, sir, no, siree! You sit right down there on the settee, and rest your poor dear self!"

"But it's not fair to leave you with all the work, Myra, darling," Rose said. "I could at least do-"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" Myra shooed her away. "You're going to sit down, that's what you're going to do. Nick, you entertain Rose while I'm busy."

"Why, sure," I said. "Nothin' I'd enjoy more than entertainin' Rose!"

Rose had to bite her lip to keep from laughin'. We went over to the settee and sat down, and Myra gathered up an armful of dishes and started for the kitchen.

Lennie was lolling on a chair with his eyes closed. But I knew they weren't closed tight. That was a trick of his, pretending to be asleep, and I guess he must have liked it real well because this was about the umpteenth time he'd tried to pull it on me.

I whispered to Rose, "How about a little kiss, honey?"

Rose shot a quick look at Lennie and the kitchen door, and said, "Let's have a big one." And we had a big one.

And Lennie's eyes and mouth flew open at the same time, and he let out a yell. "My-ra! Myra, come quick, Myra!"

There was a heck of a clatter as Myra dropped something in the kitchen. A stack of dishes, it sounded like. She ran in, scared out of her wits, looking like she expected the house to be on fire.

"What? What, what?" she said. "What's going on? What's the matter, Lennie?"

"They was huggin' and kissin', Myra!" Lennie pointed at Rose and me. "I seen 'em, huggin' and kissin'."

"Why, Lennie," I said. "How can you say such a awful thing?"

"You was too! I seen you!"

"Now, you know that ain't so!" I said. "You know god-danged good an' well what happened."

"Just what did happen?" Myra said, looking kind of uncertainly from Rose to me. "I'm-I'm sure there must be a, uh, mistake, but-"

Rose started crying again, burying her face in her hands. She got up, saying she was going home because she just couldn't stay another minute in a place where people said such awful things about her.

Myra put out a hand to stop her, and said, "Nick, will you kindly tell me what this is all about?"

"They was huggin' and kissin', that's what!" Lennie yelled. "I seen 'em!"

"Hush, hush, Lennie! Nick?"

"T'heck with it," I said, sounding mad. "You can believe any god-danged thing you want to. I tell you this, though, this is the last god-danged time I try to comfort anyone when they're feelin' bad!"

"But… oh," said Myra. "You mean that…?"

"I mean that Rose got to feelin' real bad again," I said. "She started cryin' and I told her to just lean against me until she felt better, and I sort of patted her on the shoulder like any decent fella would. Why, god-dang it!" I said, "I did the same god-dang thing a while ago when you were right here in the room, and you said that was fine, I should take care of her! And god-dang, look how you're actin' now!"

"Please, Nick," Myra was all flustered and red. "I never for a moment thought that, uh-"

"It's all my fault," Rose said, drawing herself up real dignified. "I guess I can't blame you for thinking such terrible things about me, Myra, but you should have known that I'd never, never do anything to hurt my very best friend."

"But I do know it! I never had any such thoughts, Rose, darling!" Myra was practically bawling herself. "I'd never doubt you for a moment, dear."

"They're story-tellin', Myra!" Lennie yelled. "I seen 'em huggin' and kissin'."

Myra slapped him. She pointed to the door of his room, chasing him toward it with a couple more hard slaps. "Now, you get in there! Get right in there and don't let me see you again tonight!"

"But I seen-"

Myra gave him a crack that practically knocked him off his feet. He went stumbling into his bedroom, blubbering and spitting, and she slammed the door on him.

"I'm terribly, terribly sorry, Rose, darling," Myra turned back around again. "I-Rose! You take that hat right back off, because you're not moving a step out of here!"

"I th-think I'd better go home," Rose wept, but she didn't sound real determined. "I'd be too embarrassed to stay after this."

"But you mustn't be, dear! There's absolutely no need to be. Why-"

"But she does," I cut in, "an' I don't blame her a god-dang bit! I feel the same way myself. Why, goddang it, the way I feel right now I get sort of self-conscious even bein' in the same room with Rose!"

"Well, why don't you get out of the same room then?" Myra snapped. "My goodness, get out and take a walk or something! No sense in you acting the fool, just because poor Lennie did."

"All right, I will get out," I said. "That god-danged Lennie starts all the trouble, and I get drove out of my own house. So don't you be surprised if I don't hurry back!"

"I'll be pleasantly surprised if you don't. I'm sure neither Rose nor I will miss you, will we, Rose?"

"Well-" Rose bit her lip. "I hate to feel responsible for-"

"Now, don't you trouble yourself another minute, darling. You just come out in the kitchen with me, and we'll have a nice cup of coffee."

Rose went with her, looking just a wee bit disappointed, naturally. At the kitchen door, she glanced back at me quickly, and I shrugged and spread my hands and looked sort of mournful. As if to say, you know, that it was too doggoned bad, but it was just one of those things, and what could you do about it? And she nodded, letting me know that she understood.

I got a pole and fishing line from under my bed. I came back out of the bedroom and called to Myra, asking her if she could pack me up a lunch because I was going fishing. And I guess you know what she told me. So I left.

There weren't many people on the street that late at night, almost nine o'clock, but practically everybody that was up asked me if I was going fishing. I said, why, no, I wasn't, and where did they ever get an idea like that?

"Well, how come you're carryin' a fish pole and line, then?" this one fella said. "How come you're doin' that if you ain't goin' fishin'."

"Oh, I got that to scratch my butt with," I said. "Just in case I'm up a tree somewheres, an' I can't reach myself from the ground."

"But, looky here now-" He hesitated, frowning. "That don't make no sense."

"How come it don't?" I said. "Why, practically everyone I know does the same thing. You mean to say you never took a fishing pole with you to scratch your butt with, in case you was up a tree an' couldn't reach yourself from the ground? Why, god-dang it, ain't you behind the times!"

He said, well, sure, he always did the same thing himself. Fact is, he was the first fella to think of the idea. "All I meant was that you shouldn't have no hook an' line on it. I mean, that part don't make sense."

"Why, shore it does," I said. "That's to pull up the back-flap of your drawers after you're through scratchin'. God-dang," I said, "it looks to me like you're really behind the times, fella. You don't watch out, the world will plumb pass you by before you know it!"

He scuffed his feet, looking ashamed of himself. I went on down the street toward the river.

I told one fella that, no, I wasn't going fishing, I was going to fasten on to a sky-hook and swing myself t' the other side of the river. I told another fella that, no, I wasn't going fishing, the county was putting a bounty on flying turds and I was going to try to look onto some, in case they cleaned out the crappers when the train went by. I told another fella-

Well, never mind. It don't make no more difference than it made sense.

I got to the river. I waited a while, and then I began moving up the bank until I was about on a line with Amy Mason's house. Then, I started cutting back toward town again, dodging any house with lights in it and taking cover whenever I could. And finally I got to where I was going.

Amy let me in the back door. It was dark, and she took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. She flung off her nightgown there, grabbed me and held me for a minute, her lips moving over my face. She began to whisper, wild crazy things, sweet wild crazy things. And her hands fumbled with my clothes, and I thought to myself, god~danged, there just never was no one like Amy! There just ain't no one like her! And

And I was right.

She made me know I was.

Then, we were lying side by side, holding hands. Breathing together, our hearts beating together. Somehow, there was perfume in the air, although I knew Amy never wore none; and somehow you could hear violins playin', so sweet and so soft, playing a song that never was. It was like there wasn't any yesterday, like there'd been no time before this, and I wondered why it should ever be any other way.

"Amy," I said, and she rolled her head to look at me. "Let's get away from this town, honey, let's us run away together."

She was silent for a moment, seeming to think the idea over. Then she said I couldn't think very much of her or I wouldn't make such a suggestion.

"You're a married man. I'm afraid you might have a great deal of trouble in getting unmarried. What does that make me, the woman who runs away with you?"

"Well, looky, honey," I said. "This sure ain't satisfactory, the way we're doin' now. We sure can't go on like this, can we?"

"Do we have a choice?" Her shoulders moved in a shrug. "Now if you had money-you don't, do you, dear? No, I thought not-you might be able to make a settlement with your wife, and we could leave town. But in the absence of money – –

"Well, uh, about that now…" I cleared my throat. "I reckon they's a lot of fellas that'd be too proud to accept money from a woman. But the way I look at it-"

"I don't have it, Nick, popular opinion to the contrary notwithstanding. I own a number of income properties, and the rentals enable me to live quite well by Pottsville standards. But they'd bring very little at a sale. Certainly not enough to support two people for the rest of their lives, let alone assuage the wounded feelings of a wife like yours."

I hardly knew what to say to that. Maybe, well, maybe my feelings was kind of hurt. Because I knew just about as much about the property she owned as she did, and I knew she was a lot better off than she pretended.

She just didn't want to get things squared up and go off with me. Or just run away with me like any woman should if she was really in love with a fella. But it was her money, so what the heck could I do about it?

Amy picked up my hand and put it on one of her breasts. She squeezed it, trying to press it into her flesh, but I didn't help her none, and finally she pushed it away.

"All right, Nick," she said. "I'll tell you the real reason I won't go away with you."

I said to never mind, I wouldn't want to trouble her none, and she snapped for me not to dare to be rude to her. "Don't you dare, Nicholas Corey! I love you-at least, it seems to be love to me-and because I do, I'm willing to accept something that I never thought I could accept. But don't you be rude to me, or I might change. I might cease to love a man who I know is a murderer!"

17

I didn't say anything for quite a spell; just lay still where I was wondering where that violin music had gone to and why I couldn't smell the perfume no more.

Finally, I said, "Just what are you talking about, Amy?" And I was just a little relieved when she told me, just a little, because it could have been a lot worse.

"I'm talking about those two men you killed. Those, well, pimps is the word, I believe."

"Pimps?" I said. "What pimps?"

"Stop it, Nick. My reference is to a certain night when you and I returned to Pottsville on the same train. Yes, I know you didn't see me, but I was on it. I was curious as to why you'd be going to the river at that time of night, dressed in your very best clothes, so I followed you…"

"Now listen," I said. "You couldn't've followed me wherever I went. It was doggoned dark that night that-"

"It was very dark for you, Nick. For a man who's never been able to see well at night. But I don't suffer from that handicap. I followed you quite easily, and I saw you quite clearly when you killed those two men."

Well…

At least it was better than her knowing I'd killed the other two. It didn't tie me up with Rose in a way that I couldn't very well get out of. Which Amy would have known was the case if she knew I'd killed Tom Hauck. And which was still the case even if Amy didn't know about it.

For a minute or two, I almost wished I was running off with Rose and thirty thousand dollars plus, and t'heck with Amy. But my thinking that was just almost and I didn't even almost it very long. Rose just naturally took too much out of a fella, she was too demandin' and possessive, and she didn't have much of anything to give him back. She was one heck of a lot of woman, but when you'd said that you'd said it all. A lot of woman but a god-danged flighty one. A woman who was apt to lose her head just when she needed it most, like she had with Uncle John.

I rolled over and took Amy into my arms. She swam up against me for a moment, pressing every soft warm inch of herself again me, and then she kind of moaned and pulled away.

"Why did you do it, Nick? I told you I'd accepted it, and I have, but-why, darling? Make me understand why! I never thought you could kill anyone."

"I never thought I could neither," I said. "And I can't rightly say why! did it. They were just one more god-dang thing I didn't like, that I particularly didn't like. I'd been letting them go, like I let so many things go, and finally I thought, well, I didn't have to. There were a lot of things, most things, that I couldn't do nothing about. But I could do something about them, an' finally… finally I did something."

Amy stared at me, a little frown working up on her face. I gave her a pat on the bottom, and kissed her again.

"T'tell the truth, honey," I went on, "I really felt like I was doing the right thing for them fellas. They weren't no good to themselves nor nobody else and they must've known it, like anyone would know a thing like that. So I was doing 'em a pure kindness by fixing it so they wouldn't have to go on livin'."

"I see," Amy said. "I see. And do you also feel you'd be doing Ken Lacey a pure kindness if you kept him from going on living?"

"Him especially," I said. "A fella that mocks his friends, that hurts people just because he's able to hurt 'em-Ken Lacey! " I said. "What do you know about him?"

"Only one thing, Nick. All I know is that you somehow seem to have arranged things so that Sheriff Lacey will be blamed for the two murders that you committed."

I swallowed, and said I just didn't know how she figured that. "It sure ain't my fault if Ken comes down here an' gets drunk, and pops off all over town about what a tough fella he is. I figure that if a fella wants to get all the glory out of braggin', he has to take the blame along with it."

"I don't figure that way, Nick. I won't allow you to do it."

"But, booky," I said. "Why not, Amy? What's Ken to you, anyways?"

"He's a man who may be falsely convicted of murder."

"But-but I just don't understand," I said. "If you don't mind about me killin' them two pimps, why…"

"You haven't been listening, Nick. I mind about them very much. But I had no way of knowing that you were going to kill them. In the case of Sheriff Lacey, I do know your plans, and if I allowed you to carry them Out I'd be as guilty as you are."

"But"-I hesitated-"what if I just can't help myself, Amy? What if it's him or me?"

"Then, I'd be very sorry, Nick. It would have to be you. But that circumstance isn't likely to arise, is it? There's no way you can be incriminated?"

"Well, no," I said. "I can't think of none offhand. For that matter, there's a good chance them bodies will never be found."

"Well, then?"

"Well… god-dang it, Amy, it'd be a lot better to let things go like I planned!" I said. "A whole lot better. Why, if you knew that god-danged Ken Lacey like I do, some of the mean things he's done-"

"No, Nick. Absolutely, no."

"But, doggone it-!"

"No."

"Now, you looky here, Amy," I said. "It just don't look to me like you're in any position to be givin' orders. You got guilty knowledge, like they say in the courts. You know I killed those fellas an' you didn't say nothin' about it, so if you try to do it later you're incriminatin' yourself."

"I know that," Amy nodded evenly. "But I'd still do it, Nick. I'm sure you know I would."

"But-"

But I did know she'd do it, even if it got her hanged. So there just wasn't anything more to say on the subject.

I looked at her, with her hair spilled out on the pillows and the warmth of her body warming mine. And I thought, god-dang, if this ain't a heck of a way to be in bed with a pretty woman. The two of you arguing about murder, and threatening each other, when you're supposed to be in love and you could be doing something pretty nice. And then I thought, well, maybe it ain't so strange after all. Maybe it's like this with most people, everyone doing pretty much the same thing except in a different way. And all the time they're holding heaven in their hands.

"I'm sorry, honey," I said. "O' course, I'll do whatever you want. I wouldn't never want to do nothing else."

"And I'm sorry, too, darling." She brushed my mouth with a kiss. "And I'll do what you want. As soon as things here are a little more settled, I'll go away with you."

"Fine. That's just fine, honey," I said.

"I want to very much, dear, and I will. Just as soon as we can be sure that there are no loose ends here."

I said again that that was just fine, wondering what I was going to do about a great big loose end like Rose Hauck. Then I thought, well, I'd just have to face that problem when I came to it. And I put everything out of my mind but Amy, and I reckon she put everything out of her mind but me. And it was like it was before, only more so.

It was like nothing that ever was. Only more so.

Then, again we were layin' there side by side. Breathing together, hearts beating together. And suddenly Amy tore her hand out of mine, and sat up.

"Nick! What's that?"

"What? What's what?"

I looked to the window where she was pointing, at the drawn shade with its rim of flickering light.

Then, I jumped up and ran to the window, and tilted the shade back. And I guess I must have groaned out loud.

"God-dang," I said. "God-dang it to heck, anyway!"

"Nick, what is it, darling?"

"Colored town. It's on fire."

I guess I should have known it might happen. Because Tom Hauck was a white man, whatever else you said about him, and it looked like a colored fella had killed him. So some idjit would get the notion that "the niggers got to be taught a lesson," and he'd spread the word to other idjits. And pretty soon there'd be trouble.

I got dressed with Amy watchin' me worriedly. She asked me what I was going to do, and I said I didn't know, but I was sure going to have to do something. Because a thing like this, a sheriff bein' off fishing when trouble broke, was just the kind of thing that could lose an election.

"But, Nick… that doesn't matter now, does it? As long as we're going away together?"

"When?" I jerked on my boots. "You can't name no definite date, can you?"

"Well-" She bit her lip. "I see what you mean, dear."

"Might be a year or two," I said. "But even if it was only six months, I better be in office. Makes it a lot easier to wrap up any of them loose ends you mentioned than it would if I was just an ordinary citizen."

I finished dressing, and she let me out the back door.

I went back the way I'd come, down to the river, then up the river bank. And of course I didn't keep my fishing pole with me.

I came up on the far side of the Negro section, dirtyin' myself with some charcoal from the fire. Then, I mingled in with the crowd, beating at the flames with a wet toesack that someone had dropped.

Actually, there wasn't a whole lot of damage; maybe a total of six or seven burned shacks. What with the recent rain and no wind, the fire was slow in starting and it didn't have a chance to spread far before it was discovered.

I started telling some colored folks what to do, working right along with them. Then, I stood back for a minute, wiping the sweat from my eyes, and someone tapped me on the shoulder.

It was Robert Lee Jefferson, and he looked about as stern as I'd ever seen him.

"God-dang, ain't this something, Robert Lee?" I said. "No telling what might have happened if I hadn't been right here Johnny-on-the-spot when the fire broke out."

"Come along," he said.

"Why, thanks, Robert Lee," I said, "but I don't rightly think I can. This fire-"

"The fire is fully under control. It was under control long before you got here. Now, come along."

I climbed into his carriage with him. We drove to his store, and there were other carriages and buggies and horses tied up outside, and there were maybe a half a dozen men waiting on the sidewalk. Important citizens like Mr. Dinwiddie, the bank president, and Zeke Carlton, who owned the cotton gin, and Stonewall Jackson Smith, the school superintendent, and Samuel Houston Taylor, who owned Taylor's Emporium, Furniture and Undertaking.

We all went inside. We sat down in Robert Lee's office, or I should say, everybody but me sat down. Because there just wasn't no place for me to sit.

Zeke Carlton started the meeting by slamming his fists down on the desk and asking just what the hell kind of county were we running. "Do you know what can come of a thing like this tonight, Nick? Do you know what happens when a bunch of poor helpless niggers get burned out?"

"I got a pretty good idea," I said. "All the colored folks get scared, and maybe they ain't around when it comes cotton-pickin' time."

"You're tootin' well right, they're not! Scarin' them god-dam poor niggers could cost us all a pisspot full of money!"

"Your wife said you'd gone fishing tonight," Robert Lee Jefferson said. "At just what point on the river were you when the fire broke out?"

"I didn't go fishing," I said.

"Now, Corey," Stonewall Jackson Smith said firmly. "I saw you heading toward the river myself with a fishing pole and line. I'd say that was pretty conclusive evidence that you did go fishing."

"Well, now, I just don't think I can agree with you," I said. "I wouldn't say you was wrong, but I sure wouldn't say you was right, neither."

"Oh, cut it out, Nick!" snapped Samuel Houston Taylor. "We-"

"Take t'other night, now," I went on, "I seen a certain fella crawlin' into an empty freight car with a certain high school teacher. But I don't think that's conclusive evidence they was shipping themselves somewhere."

Stonewall Jackson turned fiery red. The others looked at him, kind of narrow-eyed, like they was sizing him up for the first time, and Mr. Dinwiddie, the bank president, turned to me. He was friendlier than the other fellas. He'd stayed pretty friendly toward me ever since the time I'd pulled him out of the privy.

"Just where were you and what were you doing there tonight, Sheriff?" he said. "I'm sure we'll all be glad to accept your explanation."

"Not me, by God!" said Zeke Carlton. "I-"

"Quiet, Zeke," Mr. Dinwiddie motioned to him. "Go on, Sheriff."

"Well, we'll start right at the beginning of tonight," I said. "I figured someone might try to start somethin' with the colored folks, so I got out a pole an' line and pretended to go fishing. The river runs right in back of colored town, you know, an'-"

"Yeah, hell, we know where it runs!" Samuel Houston Taylor scowled. "What we want to know is why you weren't there to prevent the fire?"

"Because I had to make a little detour," I said. "I seen a fella sneakin' away from someone's house, and I thought maybe he'd pulled something crooked. It looked like something I ought to investigate, anyways, just to make sure. So I went up to this house, and I was about to knock when! decided it wasn't necessary and it might be kind of embarrassin'. Because I could see this housewife inside, and it was plain to see, as happy as she looked, that there hadn't been no trouble. Aside from which she didn't have hardly no clothes on."

It was just a shot in the dark, of course. Sort of a double shot. I figured that with this many Pottsville citizens involved, someone was just about bound to be two-timin' his wife, or someone's wife was two-timin' him. Or else he was god-dang suspicious that she was.

Anyways, it sure looked like my shot hit home, because it was the dangest funniest thing you ever seen, the way they acted. All of 'em-or most of 'em, I should say-glaring at each other and trying to keep their heads ducked at the same time. All of 'em accused and accusing.

Mr. Dinwiddie started to ask just whose house I was referring to. But the others gave him a look that shut him up fast.

Robert Lee cleared his throat, and said for me to go on with my story.

"We can assume that you eventually reached the river, and you were there when the fire started. Then, what happened? What were you doing all the time that the rest of us were fighting the blaze?"

"I was trying to catch the fellas that started it," I said. "They came crashing down through the underbrush afterward, trying to get away, and I hollered for 'em to halt, they was under arrest, but it didn't do no good. They kept on running, and I chased 'em, yelling for them to stop or I'd shoot. But I reckon they knew I wouldn't, knew I wouldn't dare to, because they all got away."

Robert Lee wet his lips, hesitating. "Did you see who they were, Nick?"

"Well, let's put it this way," I said. "It don't make much difference whether I know who they were or not. As long as I didn't catch 'em, their names ain't important and it would just cause hard feelin's to say who they was."

"But, Sheriff," Mr. Dinwiddie said. "I don't see, uh-" He broke off, seeing the look that Zeke Carlton gave him. Seeing the looks of the others, his most important depositors.

Because I'd fired another shot in the dark, and it had hit even closer on target than the first one.

With a couple of exceptions, there wasn't a man there that didn't have a grown or a semi-grown son. And there wasn't a one of them young’uns that was worth the powder it'd take to blow their nose. They loafed around town, puttin' up a half-way pretense of working for their daddies. Whoring and drinking and thinking up meanness. Any troubles that broke out, you could bet that either one of 'em or all of 'em was mixed up in it.

The meeting broke up, hardly anyone nodding to me as they left.

I followed Robert Lee out to the walk and we stood talking together for a minute.

"I'm afraid you haven't made yourself any friends tonight, Nick," he told me. "You'll really have to buckle down and work from now on, if you want to stay in office."

"Work?" I scratched my head. "What at?"

"At your job, naturally! What else?" he said, and then his eyes shifted as I stared at him. "All right, perhaps you did have to compromise tonight. Perhaps you'll have to again. But one or two exceptional cases don't justify your doing nothing at all to enforce the law."

"Well, I'll tell you about that, Robert Lee," I said. "Practically every fella that breaks the law has a danged good reason, to his own way of thinking, which makes every case exceptional, not just one or two. Take you, for example. A lot of fellas might think you was guilty of assault and battery when you punched Henry Clay Fanning in-"

"I'll ask you just one question," Robert Lee cut in. "Are you or aren't you going to start enforcing the law?"

"Sure I am," I said. "I sure ain't going to do nothing else but."

"Good, I'm relieved to hear it."

"Yes, sir," I said. "I'm really going to start cracking down. Anyone that breaks a law from now on is goin' to have to deal with me. Providing, o' course, that he's either colored or some poor white trash that can't pay his poll tax."

"That's a pretty cynical statement, Nick!"

"Cynical?" I said. "Aw, now, Robert Lee. What for have I got to be cynical about?"

18

The fire was on late Friday night, and it was almost dawn Saturday before I got home. I scrubbed myself up, and put on some clean clothes. Then I went out into the kitchen, and started to fix breakfast.

Myra came out fuming and fussing, asking me what in the world I was up to. I told her about the fire and how people were criticizin' me, and she shut up fast. Because she didn't want to be an ex-sheriff's wife any more than I wanted to be an ex-sheriff, and she knew I was going to have to do some humpin' or we might be.

She finished cooking breakfast for me. I ate and went downtown.

It being Saturday, all the stores were open extra early, and any farmers that weren't already in town were on their way in. They stood around on the sidewalks, their black cloth hats brushed and cleanlooking, their Sunday shirts fairly clean, and their overalls ranging from middling-dirty to downright filthy.

Their wives wore starched-stiff sunbonnets and Mother Hubbards made out of calico or gingham. Their kids' clothes-except the kids that were old enough for hand-me-downs-were made out of meal sacks, with the faded labels still showing on some of 'em. Men and women, and practically every boy and girl over twelve, were chewing and spitting snuff. The men and boys poured the snuff down inside their lower lip. The women and girls used snuff-sticks, frayed twigs that they dipped in their snuff cans and then put in the corners of their mouths.

I moved around among the men, shakin' hands and slapping backs and telling 'em to just come and see me any time they had a problem. I told all the women that Myra had been askin' about 'em and that they just had to come and see her sometime. And I patted the kids on the head, if their heads weren't too high up, and gave them pennies and nickels, depending on how tall they were.

Naturally, I was busy with the townspeople too, doing my dangdest to make friends or to get back any I'd lost. But I couldn't be sure I did any better with them than I did with the farmers, and I couldn't be sure I did any good with the farmers.

Oh, almost everyone was pleasant, and no one was what you'd call downright unfriendly. But too many of 'em were cautious, kind of cagey when I hinted around at the subject of voting. And if there's one thing I know it's this: a fella that's going to vote for you don't lose much time in declaring himself.

I tried to run a tally in my mind, and it looked to me like the best I could hope for was a near-draw with Sam Gaddis. That was the best, despite all the dirty talk that was going on about him. And if he was that strong now, in spite of the talk, how could I be sure he wouldn't be even stronger in the run-off?

I ate some crackers and cheese for lunch, passing them around amongst the fellas I was talking to.

About two o'clock, I had to go out to the cemetery for Tom Hauck's buryin', but a passel of other folks went, too, by way of amusin' themselves, so you couldn't really say it was a waste of time.

I worked through the supper hour, eating some crackers and sardines and passing them around amongest the fellas I was talking to.

Finally, it got too late to work any longer. But by then, I was so keyed up from talking, so restless and high-strung that my nerves seemed to be standing on end. So instead of going home, I sneaked over to Amy Mason's house.

We went back into the bedroom. She held me off for a minute, kind of cold and peevish-actin', and then she seemed to change her mood suddenly. And we went to bed.

It happened pretty fast, considering how wore out I was. But afterwards my eyes drifted shut, and I seemed to sink down into a deep dark pit, and-

"Wake up!" Amy was shaking me. "Wake up, I said!"

I said, "Huh, whassa matter, honey?" And Amy said again that I was to wake up.

"Is that how little I mean to you? That you can fall asleep like a hog in a wallow with my arms around you? Or were you saving yourself for your precious Rose Hauck?"

"Huh? What?" I said. "For gosh sake, Amy-"

"Rose is staying at your place, is she not?"

"Well, sure," I said. "But just on account of her husband's death and buryin'. She-"

"And why didn't you tell me she was staying there? Why did I have to find it out for myself?"

"But, looky," I said. "Why the heck should I tell you? What's it got to do with us? Anyways, you already knew all about me an' Rose, an' it didn't seem to bother you none."

She stared at me, her eyes sparkling with anger, and suddenly turned her back to me. Then, just as I was about to put my arm around her, she turned and faced me again.

"Just what do I already know about you and Rose? Tell me!"

"Aw, now, honey," I said. "I-"

"Answer me! Just what do I know about you?! want to know!"

I said I'd just made a slip of the tongue, and there wasn't anything to tell her about Rose and me. Because of course, she didn't want to know about us. No woman that sleeps with a man wants to know that another woman is doin' it, too.

"I was just referrin' to the other night," I said. "You know, when you was teasin' me about Rose, and I told you there wasn't nothing between us. That's all I meant when I said you already knew all about us."

"Well-" She was anxious to believe me. "You're sure?"

"O' course, I'm sure," I said. "Why, my gosh, ain't we the same as engaged to get married? Ain't we goin' to go away together just as soon as we figure out what to do about my wife an were sure there am t any kickbacks from them two pimps I killed? That's right, ain't it, so why would I be fooling around with another woman?"

She smiled, her lips kind of trembly. She kissed me, and snuggled up in my arms.

"Nick… don't see her anymore. After she's gone home, I mean."

"Well, I sure don't want to," I said. "I sure don't aim to, anyways. I sure won't see her, Amy, unless I just can't noways get out of it."

"Yes? And just what is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, she's Myra's friend," I said. "Even before Tom got himself killed, Myra was always after me to give Rose some help, an' I felt sorry for her so I usually did. So it'll look awful funny if I stop all of a sudden, without even waitin' until she can hire a farm hand."

Amy was silent for a moment, thinking things over. Then her head moved in a little nod.

"All right, Nick. I suppose you will have to see her-one more time."

"Well, I'm not sure that'll be enough," I said. "I mean, it prob'ly will, but-"

"One more time, Nick. Just to tell her that she'd better employ some help because you won't be seeing her again. No,"-she put her hand over my mouth as I started to speak-"that's it, Nick. Just once more, and never again. If you want me, that is. If you want to keep me from being very, very angry with you."

I said, all right, that's the way it would be. There just wasn't much else I could say. But what I was thinking was that Rose was going to have something to say about this, and I could get in just as much trouble by not heeding her as I could Amy.

Amy just wasn't giving me a chance, god-dang it! I was just as anxious to be shet of Rose as she was to have me. But it would take time and if I didn't have the time, if I could only see Rose once more

"Nick, darling… I'm still here."

I said, "Yeah, danged if you ain't." And I hugged her close and kissed and petted her, putting a lot of enthusiasm into it. But I tell you frankly, I didn't feel much. And it wasn't just because I was so tired I could hardly lift a finger.

I'd been almost on the point of hitting on a plan, something that would not only take care of Rose without me seeing her more than once, but would take care of Myra and Lennie at the same time. And then Amy had spoke up, and the pieces of a plan had scattered every which way. And I knew I was going to have a heck of a time putting 'em together again, if I ever was able to.

"Nick!"-she was beginning to sound cross again- "you're not going to sleep again, are you?"

"Me?" I said. "Me go to sleep around a pretty thing like you? Now, what do you think?"

She let me out the door, so drowsy herself she could barely keep her eyes open. I sneaked back across town, and believe me, sneakin' is the word, because I was plumb wrung dry an' there wasn't enough juice left in me to wet a whistle.

I got to the courthouse, and slipped off my boots at the foot of the stairs. I sneaked up the stairs and got to my room, and got out of my clothes. Then, I slid into bed, careful as I could to keep the springs from squeaking. And I sighed and thought Oh, Lord, how long, god dang it? One cross is bad enough, but I hadn't ought to carry a whole god-dang lumberyard around with me!

Rose grabbed me. She swarmed all over me, and it was like her body was on fire.

"Goddam! What the hell took you so long, Nick?"

I tried to keep from groaning. I said, "Look, Rose we can't do this, honey. It's already Sunday morning."

"Crap on Sunday morning!" she said. "Who gives a damn what day it is?"

"But-but this ain't nice," I said. "It just ain't nice to fornicate on Sunday morning. Now, you just think about it, an' you'll see I'm right."

Rose said she didn't want to think about it, she just wanted to do it. "Come on, dammit!" she panted. "Come on! I'll show you whether it's nice or not!"

Well, I just couldn't, you know. At least, I thought I couldn't. And I guess the only way I managed to was because the good Lord gave me strength. He seen I was in a heck of a spot, like He naturally would, because if He'd noticed something like a sparrow fallin', He'd just about have to see the predicament I was in.

So He gave me strength, I reckon. Which-an' I don't mean to sound ungrateful-was about the least He could do.

19

Rose went to church with Myra and me, Lennie staying at home because he didn't always behave too well in crowds. After the services, Rose and Myra went on home to get dinner ready, and I hung around to do a little handshakin' and baby-pattin' and backslappin'.

Sam Gaddis was doing the same thing, a grayhaired middle-aged fella with a dignified look about him. The minister had given him a kind of indirect boost in his sermon, which was about casting stones and judge not lest ye be judged, and now he seemed to be getting a better reception than I was. People would turn their heads to look at him, while they were shaking hands with me. I'd slap 'em on the back and they'd sort of take it as a shove toward Sam. And there was one woman that yanked her baby away just as I was about to kiss it, so that I danged near kissed my own belt buckle.

It looked to me like a case of, if you can't lick 'em join 'em, so I eased my way through the crowd and grabbed Sam by the hand.

"I want you to know I'm a thousand per cent behind you, Sam," I said. "All these dirty stories going around about you, I know they ain't true Sam, even if it sounds like they are, so you got my moral support a thousand per cent, and I'm goin' to be right up on the speaker's platform with you tonight to prove it!"

He said, "Well, uh," and cleared his throat awkwardly. He said, "Well, uh, that's certainly very nice of you, Sheriff. But, uh-uh-"

What he wanted to say was that he didn't want me within a thousand miles of him, let alone on the same speaker's platform. But the kind of fella he was, he didn't know how to say it.

"Well-uh, now-" he tried again. "I surely appreciate your offer, Sheriff, but wouldn't it be better if, uh-"

I slapped him on the back, cutting him off. I said, by golly, I was going to do it and he didn't need to worry about takin' favors from me, because I wasn't really doin' him one.

"I figure it's just the right thing to do," I said. "You might say it's something I got to do. So come tonight I'm goin' to be up there on the platform with-oof."

Zeke Carlton shoved past me, digging his elbow into my ribs. He dropped an arm around Sam's shoulders, and jerked his head at me.

"I'll say it for you, Sam. You don't want Nick around you, because he's a sneaky, half -assed, triflin' no-good excuse for a sheriff, and you'd be hurt just by bein' seen with him, even if he didn't stick a knife in your ribs!"

Sam cleared his throat again, looking more uncomfortable than ever. Zeke glared at me, like he wanted to spit in my face.

I said, "Well, now Zeke, that ain't hardly no way to talk. Here it is Sunday, and we're still here on the church grounds, and god-dang if you ain't calling me names and using bad words like 'half-assed'."

"Balls!" he sneered. "Who the hell are you to be correctin' me? Why-"

"I'm the sheriff," I said, "an' it's my job to look out for wrong-doin' particularly seem' that the Lord ain't abused right in His own front yard. So you just better not do it no more, Zeke, or I'll by-golly march you right down to the lock-up!"

Zeke let out an angry snort; laughed on a shaky note. He looked around at the crowd, trying to swing them to his side. But we're a real God-fearin' community, like you probably gathered, and everyone was frowning at him or givin' him frosty looks.

That made him madder than ever. "Why, God da-, gosh darn it, don't you see what he's trying to do? He's trying to get at Sam through me! He knows I'm backing Sam so he wants to make trouble for me!"

"Now, that just ain't so," I said. "You know it ain't so, Zeke."

"The hell-the heck it ain't!"

I said, no, sir it sure wasn't and he knew it as well as I did. "I leave it to anyone here," I said, "if they ever knew me to do a man dirty or even say so much as an unkind word about another fella as long as they've lived. Just ask anyone. I'll leave it up to them."

Zeke scowled and muttered something under his breath. Cuss words, it sounded like. I asked Sam if he thought I was out to harm him, and he scuffled his feet and looked embarrassed.

"Well, uh, I'm sure you wouldn't, uh, do so-uh-"

"Right," I said. "I wouldn't. In the first place, it just ain't my nature to hurt another fella, an' in the second place I know it wouldn't do no good. Because I figure you can't be hurt, Sam. The way I see it, you're as good as elected right now."

Sam's head snapped up. He kind of waved his hands, helplesslike, like he didn't know whether to pee or go blind. And if he was surprised, he sure had plenty of company. Everyone was staring at me, their eyes popped open. Even Zeke Carlton was struck dumb for a moment.

"Now, see here, Nick-" he spoke up at last. "Now, let's get this straight. Are you saying that you're concedin' the election to Sam?"

"I'm saying that I'm going to," I said, raising my voice. "I'm concedin' to Sam just as soon as he answers one question."

Zeke asked what kind of question. I said a very simple question, stalling a minute to get as big a crowd as I could.

"A very simple question," I repeated. "One that's already on everyone's lips, you might say, and that Sam would have to answer sooner or later."

"Well, come on!" Zeke scowled impatiently. "Ask it! Sam don't mind answering questions, do you, Sam? Sam's life is an open book!"

"How about that, Sam?" I said. "I'd like to hear you speak for yourself."

Sam said, "Well, uh, yes. I mean I'll be glad to answer your question. Uh, anything I can, that is."

"Well, this is about them dirty stories people are tellin' on you," I said. "Now, wait a minute! Wait a minute, Zeke, Sam,"-! held up my hand-"! know them stories ain't true. I know Sam wouldn't rape a little colored baby or steal the gold teeth out of his grandma's mouth or beat his pappy to death with a stick of cordwood or rob a widder woman of her life's savings or feed his wife to the hawgs. I know a fine fella like Sam wouldn't do nothing like that. So all I'm asking is this; this is my question…

I paused again, gettin' everyone on their toes. I waited until you could have heard a weevil crapping on a cotton boll, and then I asked my question.

"All right," I said, "here it is. If them stories ain't true, how come them to get started? How come almost everybody claims they are true?"

Sam blinked. He opened his mouth, and then he closed it again. And he and Zeke looked at each other.

"Well, uh," Sam began. "I, uh, I-"

"Now, hold up there!" Zeke butted in, turning to me. "What do you mean everybody's saying they're true? Who the hell's everybody?"

"I stand corrected," I said. "I reckon everybody ain't saying it, when you get right down to cases. Prob'ly ain't no more than two, three hundred people that are sayin' it. But that still leaves the same question. How come even two, three hundred people are sayin' it is true that Sam raped a little colored baby an' beat his pappy to death an' fed his wife to the hawgs an'-"

"Never mind, dammit!" Zeke grabbed Sam by the arm. "Come on, Sam. You don't have to answer no damn-fool question like that."

"Well, of course, he don't have to," I said. "But I should think he'd want to. Don't rightly see how he can get elected sheriff if he don't answer."

Zeke hesitated, scowling. He shot a glance at Sam, then gave him a nudge.

"All right, Sam. Maybe you'd better answer."

"Uh, well, of course," Sam nodded. "Uh, what was the question again, Sheriff?"

I started to tell him, but someone behind me interrupted.

"You know the question, Sam! How'd them stories about you get started? How come folks say they're true if they ain't?"

There was a loud murmur of agreement, with people nodding and nudging each other. Sam cleared his throat to speak, and there was another interruption. A catcall from the outskirts of the crowd.

"How about that nigger baby, Sam?"

The crowd looked at each other, embarrassed, snickering, or outright guffawing. All at once there were catcalls from half a dozen different directions.

"Where's them gold teeth, Sam?" and "Did you just screw that widder for her money, Sam?" and "What'd you do with them hawgs you fed your wife to?" and so on. Until everything was in an uproar of shouts and laughter and bootstampings.

I let it go on for two, three minutes, letting these here good Christians work themselves up to the proper pitch. Then I held up my arms and called for quiet, and finally I got it. But it was restless, you know. The kind of quiet you get just before a storm.

"Now, Sam," I said, facing around to him again. "You reckon you fully understand the question, or do you want me to repeat it?"

"Uh, well-"

"I'll repeat it," I said, "an' you listen closely, now, Sam. If you didn't rape any little defenseless colored babies or beat your poor ol' pappy to death or feed your sweet, trusting wife that you'd sworn to protect and cherish to the hawgs or-if you didn't do none of them dirty low-down things that make me sick to my stomach to think about, how come so many folks say you did? Or puttin' it briefly, Sam, how come folks say that you done things that would out-stink a skunk and that you're lower down than a puke-eating dawg, if it ain't true? Or puttin' it still another way, are you sayin' that you're telling the truth an' that everyone else is a dirty no-good liar?"

Zeke Canton hollered, "Now, wait a minute! That's not-" But he was hollered down before he could say anything more. Everyone was yelling for Sam to answer, to let him do his own talking. I held up my hands again.

"Well, Sam, what's the answer?" I said. "We're all waitin' to hear it."

"Well-" Sam wet his lips. "Well, uh-"

"Yeah?" I said. "Just speak right up, Sam. Why are people sayin' those stories are true, if they ain't?"

"Well…"

Sam didn't have an answer. You could almost smell him sweatin' blood to think of one, but he just couldn't. Which wasn't no surprise to me, of course, because how could anyone answer a question like that?

Sam kept trying, though. He was on maybe about his sixteenth try when someone flung a prayer book, hitting him spang in the mouth. And that was kind of like a signal, like the first crack of lightning in a storm. Because the air was suddenly full of prayer books and hymnals, and everyone was shouting and cussing and trying to get their hands on Sam. And all at once he disappeared like he'd been dropped through a trap door…

I sauntered on home.

I thought, well, it was just as well that I wouldn't be on the speaker's platform tonight at Sam's meeting because Sam wouldn't be there neither because there wouldn't be no meeting because Sam wouldn't be a candidate no more.

I thought, well, that was at least one nail out of my cross, and maybe, if I kept on being upright and God-fearin' and never hurting no one unless it was for their good or mine, which was pretty much the same thing, why then maybe all my other problems would get straightened out as easy as this one had.

We ate Sunday dinner, Rose and Myra and Lennie and me. Rose was supposed to go home that afternoon, and I said I'd sure be proud to take her as soon as I'd rested myself a little. But naturally I didn't take her.

I couldn't, you know, since I could only see her one more time. Just once to do something about her. And that plan had come back to me again-the plan for doing something about her and Lennie and Myra at the same time. But it wasn't something that I could pull off on Sunday afternoon, or any afternoon; it had to be at night. And, anyways, I had to study some more about it.

Myra called to me after about an hour. Then she came into my bedroom and called some more, shaking me until the whole bed almost fell apart. And, of course, it didn't do no good at all.

Finally, she gave up, and went back out into the other room, and I heard her apologizing to Rose.

"I simply can't wake him up, dear. He's just dead to the world. Not that it's any wonder, I suppose, considering how much sleep he's lost."

Rose said, yes, it wasn't any wonder, was it?, her voice kind of flat. "Well, I really hadn't planned on staying over tonight, but-"

"And you don't have to," Myra declared. "I'll just take Lennie and drive you home myself."

"Now, that's not necessary," Rose said quickly. "I don't mind-"

"And I don't mind taking you. I really don't, darling. So you just get yourself ready-Lennie, go wash your face-and we'll be on our way."

"Well," said Rose. "Well, all right, Myra, dear."

They left a few minutes later.

I yawned and stretched and turned over on my side, all set to go to sleep for real. I started to doze, just started to, and I heard someone coming up the stairs.

It was a man, judging by the footsteps. I started to turn back on my side again, thinking, well, t'heck with him, it's Sunday afternoon an' I'm entitled to a little rest. But you just can't ignore no one when you're sheriff, Sunday or whatever day it is. So! flung my feet over the side of the bed, and got up.

I went out into the living room and flung open the hall door, just as he was about to knock on it.

He was a city-dressed fella, tall and thin with a nose like a fishhook and a mouth about as big as a bee's-ass.

"Sheriff Corey?" He flashed an identification card at me. "I'm Barnes, the Talkington Detective Agency."

He smiled, his bee's-ass mouth stretching enough to show one tooth, and it was like getting a glimpse of an egg coming out of a pullet pigeon. I said I was plumb proud to meet him.

"So you're with the Talkington Agency," I said. "Why, god-dang if I ain't heard a lot about you people! Let's see now, you broke up that big railroad strike, didn't you?"

"That's right." He showed me the tooth again. "The railroad strike was one of our jobs."

"Now, by golly, that really took nerve," I said. "Them railroad workers throwin' chunks of coal at you an' splashin' you with water, and you fellas without nothin' to defend yourself with except shotguns an' automatic rifles! Yes, sir, god-dang it, I really got to hand it to you!"

"Now, just a moment, Sheriff!" His mouth came together like a buttonhole. "We have never-"

"And them low-down garment workers," I said. "God-dang, you really took care of them, didn't you? People that threw away them big three-dollar-a-week wages on wild livin' and then fussed because they had to eat garbage to stay alive! I mean, what the heck, they was all foreigners, wasn't they, and if they didn't like the good ol' American garbage, why didn't they go back where they came from?"

"Sheriff! Sheriff Corey!"

"Yeah?" I said. "You got something on your mind, Mr. Barnes?"

"Certainly I have something on my mind! Why else would I have come here? Now-"

"You mean you just didn't drop in for a little chat?" I said. "Just to maybe show me your medals for shootin' people in the back an'-"

"I'm here to inquire about a former resident of Pottsville! A man named Cameron Tramell."

"Never heard of him," I said. "Good-bye."

I started to close the door, Barnes held it open.

"You've heard of him," he said. "He was known locally as Curly, and he was a pimp."

I said, oh, I said, oh, yeah, sure, I'd heard of Curly. "Ain't seen him for a spell, come to think of it. How's he getting along, anyways?"

"Now, Sheriff"-he grinned at me with his eyes- "let's not spar with each other."

"Spar? What do you mean?" I said.

"I mean, Cameron Trammel, alias Curly, is dead, as you well know. And you also know who killed him."

20

I had him come in, and we sat in the living room while he explained about Curly. It seemed that both bodies had been washed up, Moose's as well as Curly's. But no one was interested in Moose, whereas they were plenty interested in Curly. And the people that was interested in him was his own family, one of the best families in the South. They knew he was no good, naturally; in fact, they'd paid him to stay away from 'em. But still he was "family"-still part of 'em-and they meant to see to it that his murderer was hanged.

"So here I am, Sheriff…" Barnes forced a smile. "Perhaps we didn't see eye to eye on everything, but, well, I'm not a man to hold a grudge, and I'm sure neither of us wants to see a murderer running loose."

"I know I sure don't," I said. "If I see any murderer runnin' around loose, I'll arrest 'em and throw 'em in jail."

"Exactly. So if you'll tell me the name of the man who killed Curly…"

"Me?" I said. "I don't know who killed him. If I did, I'd arrest him an' put-"

"Sheriff! You do know who killed him. You've admitted it."

"Not me," I said. "You said that I knew, not me."

His mouth pinched together again, and his eyes along with it. With that fishhook nose, his face looked like three clods on a sandbank with a plough cutting through them.

"Approximately one week ago, on the morning after Curly was killed-"

"Now, how do you know it was the morning after?" I said. "Ain't no one can say that unless it was the fella that killed him."

"I know this, Sheriff. I know that your friend, Sheriff Ken Lacey, openly boasted on the streets of this town that he had taken care of Moose and Curly, meaning he had killed them. And you were with him at the time of this boasting, this claim that he had murdered those two men, and you gave your hearty approval to it."

"Oh, yeah," I laughed, "now! remember. That was a little joke of Ken's an' mine. Had ourselves a peck of fun with it"

"Now, Sheriff-"

"You think it wasn't?" I said. "You think that a fella who'd killed two men would walk around the streets braggin' about it, and that I, an officer of the law, would just pat him on the back for it?"

"Never mind what I think, Sheriff! The events I have described did take place, and on the night previous to them-the only night Sheriff Lacey spent in Pottsville-he stayed at the river whorehouse, and he there boasted to the inmates of the house that he had fixed Moose and Curly good and that he had taken care of them good, and so on. In other words, there is incontrovertible evidence that approximately one week before Moose and Curly were found dead, on the only night Sheriff Lacey spent in Pottsville, he did declare himself to be the murderer of the aforesaid Moose and Curly."

"Uh-hah," I said, making myself sound real interested. "Now, this in-con-tro-watchmacallit evidence you speak about. Would that be the unsupported word of these whorehouse gals?"

"It's not unsupported, dammit! There's Sheriff Lacey's bragging the following morning, and-"

"But he was just jokin', Mr. Barnes. I put him up to it."

Barnes' head snapped back, them little old eyes of his glaring at me. Then he darted it forward again, like he was going to hook me with his nose.

"Now, you listen to me, Corey! Listen to me good! I don't intend to-to-" He broke off suddenly, shook himself like a horse shaking off flies. Then his face twisted, and screwed up and unscrewed, and goddang if he didn't smile. "Please excuse me, Sheriff Corey; I've had a rather trying day. I'm afraid I lost track of the fact, for a moment, that we're both equally sincere and intent in our desire for justice even though we may not act and think alike."

I nodded and said that I guessed he was right all right. He beamed and went on.

"Now, you've known Sheriff Lacey for years. He's a good friend of yours. You naturally feel that you have to protect him."

"Uh-uh," I said. "He ain't a friend of mine, and if there was any way I could pin them two murders on him I'd be plain proud to do it."

"But, Sheriff-"

"He was a friend of mine," I said. "He stopped bein' one even before that night he came down here an' rousted me out of bed and got me to point out the way to the whorehouse to him."

"Then he did go there!" Barnes rubbed his hands together. "You can testify of your own knowledge that he did go to the whorehouse on the night in question?"

"Why, sure I can," I said. "It's the plain truth, so why couldn't I testify to it?"

"But that's wonderful! Wonderful, Sheriff! And did Lacey tell you why he wanted to go to the-no, wait a minute. Did he say anything that would indicate that he was going to the whorehouse for the purpose of killing Moose and Curly?"

"You mean then, that night?" I shook my head. "No, he didn't say anything then."

"But he did at some other time! When?"

"That day," I said, "when I was over to his county on a visit. He said that pimps was one thing he just didn't have no use for, and that he believed in killin' 'em on general principles."

Barnes jumped up, and began pacing around the room. He said that what I'd told him was wonderful, wonderful, and it was just what he needed, then, stopped in front of me an' shook his finger sort of playful.

"You're quite a tease, Sheriff. Almost made me lose my temper, and I'm a man who prides himself on self-control. You had this vital information all along, and yet you appeared to be defending Lacey."

I said that, well, that was the way! was, a real card. He glanced at his watch, and asked me what time he could get a train into the city.

"Oh, you got lots of time," I said. "Better'n a couple of hours. Best thing you can do is stay an' have supper with us."

"Why-Why, that's very kind of you, Sheriff. Very kind."

I got some whiskey out of the office, and we had ourselves a few drinks. He started talking about himself, him and the detective agency, me throwing in a word now and then by way of heading him on, and his voice began to get kind of bitter. It seemed like he hated what he was doing. He knew exactly what Talkington was, and he couldn't make no excuses for it. It was a downright hateful outfit, and he was part of its hateful doings, and he hated himself because he was.

"You probably know what I mean, Sheriff. Even a man in your job has to chose his eyes to some very bad things."

"You're right about that," I said. "I have to close 'em if I want to stay on bein' sheriff."

"And do you want to? You've never thought of taking up another line of work?"

"Not for very long," I said. "What else would a fella like me do anyways?"

"Exactly!" His eyes lit up and they began to look a lot bigger. "What else can you do? What else can I do? But, Nick-excuse me for being familiar-my name's George, Sheriff."

"Glad to know you, George," I nodded, "an' you go right on calling me Nick."

"Thank you, Nick"-he took another drink of whiskey. "Now, here's what I was going to ask, Nick and it's something I've worried about a great deal. Does the fact that we can't do anything else-does that excuse us?"

"Well," I said, "do you excuse a post for fittin' a hole? Maybe there's a nest of rabbits down in that hole, and the post will crush 'em. But is that the post's fault, for fillin' a gap it was made to fit?"

"But that's not a fair analogy, Nick. You're talking about inanimate objects."

"Yeah?" I said. "So ain't we all relatively inanimate, George? Just how much free will does any of us exercise? We got controls all along the line, our physical make-up, our mental make-up, our backgrounds; they're all shapin' us a certain way, fixin' us up for a certain role in life, and George, we better play that role or fill that hole or any goddang way you want to put it or all hell is going to tumble out of the heavens and fall right down on top of us. We better do what we were made to do, or we'll find it being done to us."

"You mean it's a case of kill or be killed?" Barnes shook his head. "I hate to think that, Nick."

"Maybe that's not what! mean,"! said. "Maybe I'm not sure what I mean. I guess mostly what I mean is that there can't be no personal hell because there ain't no personal sins. They're all public, George, we all share in the other fellas' and the other fellas all share in ours. Or maybe I mean this, George, that I'm the savior himself, Christ on the Cross come right here to Potts County, because God knows I was needed here, an' I'm goin' around doing kindly deeds-so that people will know they got nothing to fear, and if they're worried about hell they don't have to dig for it. And, by God, that makes sense, don't it, George? I mean obligation ain't all on the side of the fella that accepts it, nor responsibility neither. I mean, well, which is worse, George, the fella that craps on a doorknob or the one that rings the doorbell?"

George threw back his head and roared with laughter. "That's priceless, Nick! Priceless!"

"Well, it ain't exactly original," I said. "Like the poem says, you can't fault a jug for bein' twisted because the hand of the potter shipped. So you tell me which is worse, the one that messes up the doorknob or the one that rings the bell, and I'll tell you which got twisted and who done the twisting."

"But-but suppose the same person does both?"

"It ain't likely," I said. "As a fella that's had to deal with plenty of high jinks, and god-dang if I don't feel I'm living in a joker's paradise sometimes. I can say that these little chores is usually divided up. But if that wasn't the case, George, then we've opened up another field of obligation and responsibility. Because this fella had to eat before he could crap, didn't he, and where did the food come from?"

We went on talking and drinking until Myra came home.

She fixed dinner for George and me, she an' Lennie having already eaten at Rose's place. George was real courtly to Myra. God-dang if she didn't look almost pretty the way he shined up to her, and god-dang if he didn't look almost handsome because he done it.

Then we finished eating and I walked George toward the railroad station, and things weren't so nice any more. We were friendly, but it was just one of those have-to-be things. There wasn't no real warmth or hiking in it.

I reckon that's the bad part of whiskey, you know?-the bad part about a hot of things. Not the indulging of 'em, but the not being able to indulge. The afterwards, when the oh' familiar taste of piss is back in your mouth, and you want to spit it out at everyone. And you think, god-dang, why for did I want to be nice to that fella? And I bet he thought I was a god.danged fool.

George was looking kind of glum and let-down; kind of frowny and thoughtful. Then, Amy Mason crossed to our side of the street, and I introduced her, and George perked himself up again.

"You have a fine sheriff, here," he said, chapping me on the back. "A very fine officer, Miss Mason. He's helped me solve a very important case."

"Indeed?" said Amy. "What kind of case, Mr. Barnes?"

And George told her, adding on that he just wouldn't have had a case against Ken if it hadn't been for me.

"I'm sure it wasn't an easy thing for him to do, either," he said. "It's never easy for one officer to incriminate another, even if they are not friends."

"How true!" Amy said. "And I'm sure it will become even less easy as time goes on. By the way, Sheriff, will you stop by my house this evening? I think I've seen a prowler around."

I said I'd be tickled to death to stop by, and she mustn't feel like she had to set out no coffee or cake or nothing because I wouldn't want her troubled.

She said she wouldn't be troubled at all, sort of tossing her head at me. Then, she went on, and George Barnes and I went on toward the station.

Way up river, the train was whistling for the crossing. George shook my hand and gave me a bee's ass smile, and thanked me again for my help.

"By the way, Nick. It's just a matter of form, of course, but you'll be receiving a subpoena within the next day or so."

"A subpoena?" I said. "Why for will I be receiving one of those?"

"As a prosecution witness against Ken Lacey, naturally! The chief prosecution witness, I should say. We'd certainly never get a conviction without you-"

"But what am I going to testify against him about?" I said. "What's old Ken supposed to have went and done?"

"What's he supposed to have done? " George stared at me. "Why-what are you trying to pull, anyway? You know what he's done!"

"Well, now I reckon I forgot," I said. "Maybe you wouldn't mind tellin' me again?"

"Now you see here!" He grabbed me by the shoulders, teeth gritted. "Don't you go dumb on me, Corey. If you want money, all right, but-"

"I'm really plumb puzzled, George." I eased out of his grip. "Why for would I want money?"

"For stating under oath what you've already told me privately. That Ken Lacey murdered Cameron Tramell, alias Curly!"

"Huh?" I said. "Now, wait a minute, George. I didn't tell you nothin' like that."

"Oh, yes, you did! You certainly did tell me that, in so many words. You told me-"

"Well, maybe you got that impression,"! said. "But never mind about that, never mind what I told you. The important thing, I reckon, is what I didn't tell you."

"And what was that?"

"This," I said. "The morning after Ken Lacey left, I saw Moose an' Curly alive."

21

It was Sunday morning. Early-early Sunday morning. Way off somewhere in the country, I could hear a rooster crowing, but I figured he was probably just dumb-or doing it for exercise, because it was at least an hour before dawn.

Yes, sir, it was plumb quiet, and not a creature was stirring, you might say. Except for me, shifting my buttocks a little on the bed now and then so's I would stay comfortable. And except for Rose.

She was out in the kitchen, it sounded like, fixing herself a cup of coffee. Then there was a clattery clash, and I reckoned she must have thrown the cup against the wall, and then I heard a mumbled string of words that had to be curses.

I yawned and stretched. I sure was needing some sleep, but I guess I'm always in need of sheep like I'm always in need of food. Because my labors were mighty ones-oh' Hercules didn't know what hard work was-and what is there to do but eat and sleep? And when you're eatin' and sleepin' you don't have to fret about things that you can't do nothing about. And what else is there to do but laugh an' joke… how else can you bear up under the unbearable?

It was a cinch that cryin' didn't do no good. I'd tried that before in my agony-I'd cried out as loud as a fella could cry-an' it hadn't done no good at all.

I yawned and stretched again.

Sunday in Pottsville, I thought. Sunday in Pottsvilhe, an' my sweetheart is going to leave me, and I hope it don't grieve me. My eyes plumb deceive me, an' no one'll believe me.

And I thought, god-dang it, Nick, if you didn't already have your work cut out for you, you could be a poet. The poet laureate of Potts County, by dang, and you could make up poems about piss tinkling in pots and jaybirds with the bots and assholes tying knots and…

Rose came in, and stood beside my bed.

She looked down at me, biting her lip, her face twisted like a handful of clay that a baby has played with.

"I just want to tell you one thing, Nick Corey," she said. "And don't think you're not getting off lucky, because I'd be doing a hot more than talk to you if I could. I'd see you swinging by your neck, you dirty bastard. I'd tell about you killing Tom, and goddam you, I'd laugh my head off when they strung you up, an'-an'-"

"I thought you were just going to tell me one thing," I said. "Seems to me like that's about a dozen."

"Screw you! I'm not going to tell you what I was going to say because I'm a decent woman. But if I wasn't, you know what I'd say? You know what I'd do to you, you rotten son-of-a-bitch? I'd heist a leg and pee in your ear until it washed out that stinking pile of crap you call brains!"

"Now, you just watch out now, Rose," I said. "You just better watch out or you'll be saying something dirty."

She started bawling, and stumbled back out of the room.

I heard her as she dropped down on the lounge, bawling and sniffling. And after a while she began to mumble to herself. Wondering out loud how anyone- meaning me-could do such a terrible thing.

And what could I have said except that it wasn't easy; it sure wasn't easy. And how could I explain what I didn't really understand myself?

Well?

But this is what had happened.

22

After I'd taken George Barnes to the station last Sunday, I stopped by Amy Mason's house. I knew I'd better explain that I'd just been kidding in front of Barnes-that I didn't have no intention of letting Ken Lacey get blamed for killing those pimps. But the way she hopped on me the minute I showed up, I hardly had a chance to say anything.

"I warned you, Nick!" she blazed at me. "I warned you not to do it! Now, you'll have to bear the consequences!"

"Now, wait a minute, honey," I said. "What-"

"I'm going to send a telegram to the governor, that's what! Right tonight! I'm going to tell him who actually did kill those two, uh, men!"

"But Amy, I didn't-"

"I'm sorry, Nick. You'll never know how sorry I am. But I'm going to do it. I can't allow you to commit a murder-and framing Sheriff Lacey would be murder- that! know about in advance."

I finally managed to make her listen to me, to tell her that I wasn't even halfway planning to frame Ken. "It was just a joke, see? I was just leadin' Barnes on for a good hard letdown."

"Yes?" She looked at me sharply. "You're sure about that?"

"Sure I'm sure. You should have seen his face when I told him I'd seen them pimps alive the day after Ken was down there."

"Well…"

She was still sort of suspicious, still not quite convinced that I didn't have some scheme for framing Ken without getting myself in trouble. Finally, I got kind of impatient, and I said I wasn't really flattered to have her doubtin' my word when she didn't have no reason to.

"I'm sorry." She smiled and pecked me on the cheek. "I believe you, dear, and I'll tell you something else. If I hated Sheriff Lacey like you do, I'd probably want to kill him, too!"

"Hate?" I said. "What makes you think I hate him?"

"Now, darling, it sticks out all over you. What did he ever do to you to make you feel that way about him?"

"But I don't," I said. "I mean, I don't hate him. I mean, it ain't what I feel about him that matters. It's what he is, you know; the things he's done to others. I-well, it's kind of hard to explain but-but-"

"Never mind, dear." She laughed and kissed me again. "You're not going to do anything to him, and that's all that matters."

But it wasn't all, you know? Not by a long shot. I'd've sworn that I never held no malice toward no one, never a speck of hatred. Or if lever had felt sort of a teensy twinge of dislike, it hadn't been the motivatin' factor in whatever I'd done.

That's the way I felt about myself, anyways, until Amy'd said what she'd said. And now I was kind of worried. I could put Ken Lacey out of my mind, since! wasn't going to take any action against him. But the others, well, they were all part of the same pattern, weren't they? And if I'd been showing spite toward Ken, then maybe I'd been doing the same thing with them.

And maybe, in the case of what I was about to do, the people I was about to take care of

But it had to be done, I reckoned. It had to be, and I didn't have no choice in the matter.

I was willing to let things ride; I'm long sufferin', you might say. But they wouldn't have it that way.

Rose was callin' Myra every day, hinting that she needed me to do this or that for her. And Myra kept naggin' at me to go out and do what Rose wanted done (which wasn't what Myra thought it was). And Amy was insistin' that I couldn't see Rose but one more time-no more, or else. And Lennie had taken one of his spells of tagging after me, and spying on me. And-

And finally it was Saturday night, last night, and I couldn't hold out no longer. They were all asking for it! And like the Good Book says, Ask and ye shall receive.

It was about eight in the evening, about an hour after sunset.

I came running down the cotton rows, half-stooped, which didn't conceal me much because it was a low stand of cotton. In the dusk, just about anyone nearby could see me, and they didn't even have to be too nearby. And that was the way I wanted it.

Lennie didn't like to walk. Ordinarily, he'd never go outside the town limits. It had really been a job to act sneaky and creepy enough to tote him way out here to Rose's place.

I came out of the cotton, and made a dash toward the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Lennie rising up in the field. Gawking openly, as I reached the house and pounded on the door. He really thought he had me now, Lennie did; he had me and Rose. He'd caught me sneaking into her house at night, so pretty soon now he was going to do some peeking. And then he'd go back to town with a fine story to tell Myra. A real juicy story about her own husband and her best friend.

That was just the way I wanted it.

That was the way I'd planned it.

Lennie was going to get a story for Myra, all right, but it would be a lot nastier than he figured on.

"Nick-" Rose opened the door. "What-where have you been, anyway? Why didn't you come out last-"

"Later." I squeezed inside and closed the door. I kissed her, keeping her mouth closed until I knew she was ready to listen. "I couldn't come any sooner, honey, because I been workin' on a plan. It's a way to get rid of Myra and Lennie, and I've already taken the first step an' now I'm goin' to need your help. So here! am, askin' for it. You don't want to give it, you just say so and we'll just forget all about gettin' rid of 'em and go on like we been doin'."

"But, by-what-" She was willing but confused, puzzled. I'd talked fast, acting excited and running my words together, and I had her nodding even while she was frowning and wondering what the heck it was all about.

"Well, forget it," I said, turning toward the door. "Just forget I asked, Rose, an' I'm sorry I troubled you."

"No, wait! Wait, honey!" She grabbed onto me. "I just wondered what-why-but I'll do it, honey! You just tell me what it is!"

"I want you to wait a couple of minutes," I said. "Then, I want you to go outside and grab Lennie an'-"

"Lennie!" She let out a frightened gasp. "D-Did he-"

"He followed me out here. I egged him into doin' it, because that's part of the plan. So you grab him and haul him inside, and then you tell him what I tell you to."

I told her what to say, the gist of it, that is. She turned pale, hookin' at me like I'd gone out of my mind.

"N-Nick! That's-that's crazy! I couldn't-"

"Sure, it's crazy," I said. "It's got to be crazy, don't you see?"

"But… oh," she said, and her eyes narrowed a little. "Yeah, I can see how it might-but, Nick, honey, what about the rest? How does-"

"There ain't time to tell you, now," I said. "You just go on an' take care of Lennie, an' I'll explain everything afterwards."

I turned and went into the bedroom, seeming to take it for granted, you know, that she'd do what I told her to.

She stayed where she was for a moment, fidgeting uncertainly. Frowning and maybe a little frightened. She took a step toward the bedroom, on the point, it looked like, of calling out to me. Then she suddenly faced back around, crossed to the door, and went outside.

Dimly, I heard running sounds. The fast scuffle of footsteps on the hard-packed clay of the yard. I heard a holler as she grabbed hold of Lennie, and I heard him burbling and giggling as she dragged him into the house. Tickled pink with himself, but just a mite scared along with it.

They came into the kitchen. I stood back out of sight, watching and listening.

"All right," Rose said, her eyes pure poison as she hooked at him. "What were you doing sneaking around here?"

Lennie giggled and smirked, putting his hands over his mouth, lattice-hike. Then, he said me an' Rose was really going to catch it.

"You just wait, I'm gonna tell Myra on you! I seen him! I seen oh' smarty Nick! He come sneaking out here so's you 'n' him could do somethin' nasty!"

"You mean screwing?" Rose said. "What's nasty about screwing?"

"Ooh!" Lennie pointed a shaky finger at her, his eyes popped as big as saucers. "Now, you done it! You're really gonna catch it now! I tell Myra you-"

"What's the matter?" Rose said. "You screw Myra all the time, and don't tell me you don't, you stupid-hooking jackass! That's what makes you goofy, banging her so much. You've tossed it to her so often you've thrown your ass out of line with your eyeballs!"

I almost busted out laughing.

That Rose! There just wasn't no one like her, goddang it! In less than a minute, now, she'd got Lennie so mixed up that he couldn't have found his butt if it'd had a bell on it.

He pointed his finger at her again, shaking all over. Rubbing his eyes with his other hand as he started to blubber.

"I deed not! I do not! I never done nothin' like that, an'-"

"The hell you didn't! You're not her brother, you're her boy friend! That's what she keeps you around for, to diddle her fiddle. Because you're how-hung and she's high-strung!"

"It a-ain't n-neither! I de-ed not! You-y-you're just a m-mean ol' storyteller, an'-"

"Don't lie to me, you liver-lipped bastard!" Rose shook her fist in his face. "I've seen you pouring it on her! I climbed up one of those ladders the painters are using and peeked in the window, and goddam, you were pounding it like a drum. The way you were banging the bunghole, you damned near fell in!"

Well, god-dang. It was better than a circus. And it just went to show what a fella could do when he really put his mind to it.

Here you take a common everyday thing like fornication, which, like the fella says, can be a pretty fleeting pleasure. But if you can just take the idea of it, you know, and start tossing it around amongst the right people, or the wrong ones, dependin' on your viewpoint, why then you can get something pretty god-dang unusual. Something like what was going on here.

A heck of a lot of laughs-plus the means of getting some people to get rid of themselves, when there ain't no way for you to get rid of them.

"I'm g-gonna tell M-Myra!" Lennie blubbered. "I'll tell jus' what you said about her, every dirty m-mean word an'-"

"Cow's ass?" said Rose, like she was sayin' "How's that?" and, "Suck which?" Like she was sayin' "Says which?" "You and Myra better stop playing tickle the pickle, boy, before you bat your brains out with your balls."

"I'm gonna tell Myra!" Lennie bawled, stumbling toward the door. "You're gonna get it!"

"Tell her she may be a hole, but you're no post," Rose said. "Tell her you'll tickle her ass if she'll whistle 'Old Black Joe'."

She gave Lennie a shove. It knocked him clean out the door and off the porch, and he landed sprawling in the yard.

He picked himself up, blubbering and rubbing his eyes. Rose gave him a final cussing, accusing him and Myra of a whole blast of dirty things. It kind of made me wince to listen to her, it was that dirty. What she'd said before sounded downright complimentary by comparison.

She came back in, slamming the door. I gave her a hug, and told her she'd done just fine.

"Now, are you beginnin' to get the picture?" I said. "Lennie never leaves town. He's not only too danged lazy to do any real walkin', but he's scared to get very far off by himself. Myra knows this. She knows he'd be just about as likely to flap his arms and fly as he would to come way out here to your place. So what happens when he goes home and tells Myra he has been out here?"

Rose said, "Mmm," nodding her head slowly. "She probably won't believe him, right? But what-"

"She won't believe him," I said. "Leastways, she'll have some awful strong doubts he's telling the truth. Then, he tells her all the dirty things you said about her, about her and Lennie sleepin' together and so on. And how can she believe that? How can she believe that her very best friend, a perfect lady, would all of a sudden start talking dirty about her?"

"Mmm-hmm," Rose nodded again. "She can't believe that he came out here, in the first place, and she can't believe what he says happened here. The way she sees it, he'll just have made it all up, and he'll probably get his ears boxed for lying. But-"

"Not just lying," I said, "but god-danged dangerous lyin'. The kind that breaks up homes, and gets people killed. And Myra won't want to chance the risk of it happening again. She'll figure he's taken a real bad turn for the worse, and she'll have to put him away somewhere like she's sometimes threatened to."

"Huh!" Rose gave me a startled look. "When did Myra ever do anything like that? Why she can hardly bear to let Lennie out of her sight!"

I said Myra had threatened to put him away a couple times, when she got extra mad at him, and, yeah, she couldn't hardly bear to let Lennie out of sight. "That's why she's never done anything about him, because she'd want to be with him wherever he was and she didn't want to leave Pottsville. Now, though, she's got no choice. He goes and she goes, too."

Rose said she just wasn't sure about it. It sounded good but you couldn't depend on it working out that way. I said that, well, of course we'd have to help things along a little.

"Myra's bound to tell us about it, and naturally, we get pretty blamed worried. And the worrieder we get the worrieder she gets. We're real concerned about what Lennie might do next, you know, like maybe taking a meat axe to people instead of just lying about 'em. Or setting houses on fire. Or chasm' little girls. Or-well, don't you fret about it, honey." I gave her a squeeze, and a pat on the bottom. "Everything's goin' to work out fine, but absolutely fine. I ain't got a doubt in the world about it."

Rose shrugged and said, well, maybe so; I knew Myra better than she did. Then, she snuggled up to me and bit my ear. And I kissed her, and pulled myself away.

"Lennie ain't a real fast walker," I explained. "I aim to cut cross-country and beat him back to town. Just in case, you know."

"Just in case?" Rose frowned. "In case of what?"

"In case we need a clincher. Something that'll sweep the last doubt out of Myra's mind, if she should have a doubt. It ain't even remotely likely that she will have. But when Lennie gets to the courthouse, just pantin' to tell Myra about me bein' out here, ain't it a pretty good idea for me to be sittin' in my office?"

Rose had to admit that it was, much as she hated to have me heave.

I promised we'd get together in a day or so. Then, I beat it out the door before I had to talk any more.

Naturally, I didn't go back to town. I already knew what was going to happen there. What I wanted to see was what was going to happen here, although I already had a pretty good idea, and maybe to help it along a little if it needed helpin'.

I circled around through the fields until I reached the lane that came up from the road. Then, I hunkered down beside it in a clump of scrub mulberries, and waited.

About an hour and a half passed. I started to worry a little, wonderin' if I could have been wrong, and then I heard the squeak of buggy wheels coming on fast.

I parted the bushes and peeked out. Lennie and Myra swept by, Myra clutching the horse's reins, Lennie's head lolling back and forth on his neck. He was carrying something on his lap, a black, box-like thing, and one of his hands clutched something that looked like a stick. I scratched my head, wonderin' what the heck the stuff was-the box and the stick- and then the buggy had rolled past me, up and out of the lane and into the farmyard.

Myra whoa-ed the horse to a stop. She and Lennie climbed down from the buggy, and she trailed the reins over the horse's head to keep it from wandering away. Then, she and Lennie crossed the yard and went up on the porch.

She banged on the door. It opened after a minute, and the lamplight outlined her face, white and purposeful-looking. She started to go in, then she took Lennie by the shoulder and shoved him in ahead of her. And at last I saw what he was carryin'.

It was a camera-a camera and one of them sticks that you explode flash-powder in for taking pictures indoors.

23

I jumped up and started for the house. About the first step I took, my foot caught in a root and I fell sprawling with the wind knocked out of me. For a minute or two, I didn't even have enough breath to groan, and when I finally did manage to pick myself up, I couldn't move very fast. So it was maybe all of five minutes before I got to the house, and found a window where I could hear and see.

Well, sir, it was a funny thing, a funny-terrible thing, a strange crazy thing. Because what caught my attention wasn't what you'd have thought it would be at all. Not Rose, scared and dazed and wonderin' what the heck had gone wrong. Not Lennie and Myra, smilin' and spiteful and enjoyin' theirselves. Not something that was in the room itself. Not somethin' but nothing. The emptiness. The absence of things.

I'd maybe been in that house a hundred times, that one and a hundred others like it. But this was the first time I'd seen what they really were. Not homes, not places for people to live in, not nothin'. Just pine-board walls looking in the emptiness. No pictures, no books-nothing to look at or think about. Just the emptiness that was soakin' in on me here.

And then suddenly it wasn't here, it was everywhere, every place like this one. And suddenly the emptiness was filled with sound and sight, with all the sad terrible things that the emptiness had brought the people to.

There were the helpless little girls, cryin' when their own daddies crawled into bed with 'em. There were the men beating their wives, the women screamin' for mercy. There were the kids wettin' in the beds from fear and nervousness, and their mothers dosin' 'em with red pepper for punishment. There were the haggard faces, drained white from hookworm and blotched with scurvy. There was the near-starvation, the never-bein'-full, the debts that always outrun the credits. There was the how-we-gonna-eat, how-we-gonna-sheep, how-we-gonna-cover-our-poor-bare-asses thinkin'. The kind of thinkin' that when you ain't doing nothing else but that, why you're better off dead. Because that's the emptiness thinkin' and you're already dead inside, and all you'll do is spread the stink and the terror, the weepin' and wailin', the torture, the starvation, the shame of your deadness. Your emptiness.

I shuddered, thinking how wonderful was our Creator to create such downright hideous things in the world, so that something like murder didn't seem at all bad by comparison. Yea, verily, it was indeed merciful and wonderful of Him. And it was up to me to stop brooding, and to pay attention to what was going on right here and now.

So I made an extra hard try, rubbing my eyes and shaking myself, and finally I managed to.

"-a goddam liar!" Rose was yelling. "I didn't say any such of a goddam thing!"

"Tsk, tsk." There was a possum grin on Myra's face. "Such language. I'm beginning to think you're not a very nice girl, after all."

"To hell with what you think! Who wouldn't cuss, having you and that idiot show up at this time of night!"

"You mean you didn't expect us?" Myra said. "Did you think I'd let you talk that way about me, and not do anything about it?"

"But I didn't talk about you! Lennie's lyin! Lennie wasn't even out here tonight!"

"Wasn't he? Then what was his handkerchief doing out there on the porch? One of the extra-big, double-thick kind I make for him because the poor dear's always slobbering."

Myra went on grinning, watching the fear spread over Rose's face. Rose stammered that she was lying, that she hadn't found Lennie's handkerchief on the porch. But she had, all right. I'd put it there myself.

"Well?" Myra said. "Well, Rose?"

Rose was caught, and she must have known it. The rough talk she'd been using was a dead giveaway in itself. But like a scared person will, she kept on trying.

"W-Well…" She bobbed her head jerkily. "All right, Lennie was here. I caught him sneaking around the house and it scared me, and I guess I talked pretty rough to him. But-but I certainly didn't say those dirty things that he says I did!"

"Didn't you?"

"No, I didn't! How many times do I have to tell you?"

Myra laughed, a mean scary laugh that even made me shiver. She said that Rose didn't have to tell her any times, because a lie didn't gain anything by repetition.

"Lennie's telling the truth, dear. He doesn't have the imagination to make up a story like that."

"B-But-but-"

"And you don't have the imagination either. You couldn't have invented the story, any more than he could. Which means-well, I don't know how you found out, but you obviously did. And that's the important thing, isn't it? That and making sure that you don't do any talking to anyone else."

Rose stared at her, slowly shaking her head, her voice a harsh sickish whisper. "I-I d-don't believe you. Y-You and Lennie. I just don't believe you! "

The fact was, I was pretty shocked myself. Because I'd guessed the truth; I'd been pretty sure of it. But that wasn't nowhere near the same as knowin' it.

"I don't believe you," Rose repeated shakily. "Why-why would you-"

"Oh, stop pretending," Myra said. "You found out about us, and you were foolish enough to tell Lennie. As for the why of things, you're going to find that out, too, and very shortly. That is, of course, if you're similarly attracted to him."

She motioned to Lennie. He fastened the camera around her neck with a strap, and she fiddled with the settings for a minute, getting it like she wanted. Then he poured powder into the flashstick from a can in his pocket, and carefully handed it to her.

Rose stood staring at them.

Myra let out another one of her mean-scary laughs. "Don't worry about your picture, dear. I'm really quite professional with a camera. In fact, I made quite a bit of money that way before I was married, quite a bit. You'd be surprised at the sums people paid me for certain pictures that I took of them."

Rose shook her head, seeming to shake off her fear for the moment. She said that Myra was going to get a surprise if she didn't drag her ass out of there.

"Now, beat it, you baggy old bitch! Take your buggy boy friend and clear out of here before I forget I'm a lady!"

"In a moment, dear. Just as soon as I take your picture-with Lennie."

"Take my picture! Why, goddam you-"

"Mmm-hmm, take your picture. With Lennie. It'll be much safer than killing you, and every bit as effective at keeping you quiet, and-tear her clothes off, Lennie! "

Lennie's hand darted out before Rose could move. It caught in the front of her dress and ripped downward, taking the underclothes along with the dress. Before you could blink an eye, she was standing in a puddle of rags, naked as a baby jay.

Lennie burbled and choked on his own spit, and about a pint more spilled over his chin. Myra gave him a lovin' look.

"She looks very good, doesn't she, darling? Why don't you see if she really is?"

"Guh, guh-" Lennie hesitated doubtfully. "Maybe she hurt me?"

"Now, of course she won't hurt you," Myra laughed. "You're big and she's little, and anyway I'm here to protect you."

"Guh, guh-" Lennie still hesitated. He'd ripped Rose's clothes off, but just doing that, just the one quick grab, didn't take much guts. He wasn't quite ready to go the rest of the way, even with Myra to nerve him up and tell him it was okay. "W-What- how I do it, Myra?"

"Just grab her and throw her down," Myra said, and then, sharply, forcing him to obey before he could think, "Grab her, Lennie! "

Rose had been standin' sort of stunned since her clothes were ripped off. Glazed-eyed, too stupefied even to try to cover herself.

But then Lennie grabbed, hugging her to him, slobbering over her, and everything was changed. She came to life like a turpentined bobcat, screaming, clawing, kicking and pounding. Lennie got hit and clawed in about a dozen places at the same time, not to mention a kneein' in his crotch and a kicking on his shins.

He fell away from her, blubbering and clutching himself. Rose darted into the bedroom and shammed the door, and Myra hauled off and kicked Lennie in the tail.

"You big boob, go after her! Break the door down!"

"I'm a-scairt," Lennie whined. "She hurt me!"

"I'll hurt you a hot worse!" Myra twisted his ear by way of demonstration. "I'll beat you black and blue if you don't do what I tell you. Now, break that door down! "

Lennie began to shoulder the door. Myra stood right behind him, urging him on, telling him what would happen if he didn't mind her.

The lock gave. The door banged open, Lennie following it with his rush and Myra following him. And…

And so I reckon I never will know what was in Myra's mind. Or what wasn't in it. Whether she'd forgot about that pistol she'd helped Rose buy, or whether she thought that Rose wouldn't dare use it. Or whether she was so danged mad and determined to put Rose in a fix that she just wasn't thinking.

No, sir, I'll never know what she thought or didn't think. Because just about a second after the bedroom door busted open, she and Lennie were dead.

They came stumbling backward into the living room when Rose started shooting, falling over each other, going down to the floor together in a tangled heap. They were already dead then, I reckon, but Rose kept on firing-like she was shooting fish in a barrel-until the gun was empty.

I climbed in the buggy and started for town, ponderin' over the strange workings of Providence. What I'd really sort of figured on was that Myra would kill Rose, and then Myra and Lennie would have to skip town, because I would be absolutely impartial even if they were sort of kinfolks and I'd do my dangdest to see that they were punished even if I had to shoot 'em while they were trying to escape. Which would probably be the best way of winding things up.

But this would be all right, I reckoned. It would work out just as well with Rose killin' Myra and Lennie.

I put the horse and buggy in the livery stable, listening to the hostler snore away in the hayloft. I went back across town to the courthouse, and everyone was long-gone in bed of course and it was like there wasn't no one on the earth but me.

I went upstairs to the living quarters, and drew the shades down tight. Then, I lit a lamp and got myself a cup of cold coffee from the stove, and eased down on the lounge to drink it.

I finished it, and carried the cup back into the kitchen. I toed my boots off and stretched out on the lounge to rest. And the downstairs door slammed open and Rose came pounding up the steps and busted in on me.

She'd run all the way into town on foot, I reckon, and she was wild-eyed and crazy-hookin'. She sagged against the door, heaving for breath, pointing a shaking accusin' finger at me. It was all she could do for a moment, just point.

I said howdy-do to her, and then I said it was all right, me and her bein' friends, but it really wasn't polite to point at people.

"I thought you ought to know that," I said. "It not only ain't polite, but you might poke someone in the eye."

"Y-You!" she said, fighting for breath. "You- you-!"

"Or if they was real tall folks," I said, "you might poke 'em in some other bodily orifice, which could be plumb embarrassin' for you, not to mention the danger of getting your finger caught."

She took a long, shuddery heave. Then she came over to the lounge and stood over me. "You you you son-of-a-bitch!" she said. "You you you rotten stinking bastard. You-you goddamned whoremongerin, double-crossing, low-down, worthless, no-good, mean, hateful, two-timing onery-"

"Now, god-dang it, Rose," I said. "Danged if it don't almost sound as if you was mad at me."

"Mad!" she yelled. "I'll show you how mad I am! I'll-"

"Better not holler so loud!" I said. "Folks might be roused into coming up here to find out what's going on.

Rose said to let 'em come, but she lowered her voice. "I'll damned well tell them what's going on, you dirty bastard! I'll tell them just what happened!"

"And what would that be?" I said.

"Don't you play dumb on me, damn you! You know what happened! You were outside all the time, because I heard you when you drove away! You let it happen! You stood by watching while! had to kill two people!"

"Uh-huh?" I said. "Yeah?"

"What the hell do you mean, 'Uh-huh yeah'? Are you saying that you didn't do it, that it didn't happen that way? That you didn't plan the whole thing, an'-an'-"

"I ain't sayin' nothin' like that at all," I said. "All I'm saying or rather askin' is what you're goin' to tell folks. What kind of a believable explanation are you going to put together for them two dead bodies you got in your house and the blood all over the floor, and the fact that even an idjit could prove they was shot with your gun? Because no one's goin' to believe the truth Rose; they just ain't goin' to believe no such wild story. You just think about it a minute, and you'll see that they won't."

She opened her mouth to speak, to call me some more dirty names I guess. Then she seemed to have some second thoughts on the matter, and she sat down quietly at the side of the lounge.

"You've got to help me, Nick. You've got to help me cover this up some way."

"Well, now, I don't rightly see how I could do that," I said. "After all, you're guilty of murder an' fornicatin' and hypocrisy, an'-"

"Huh! Wha-at! " She glared at me. "Why, you forktongued son-of-a-bitch! You call me names after what you've done! And I don't suppose you're at all responsible, are you?"

"Not a speck,"! said. "Just because! put temptation in front of people, it don't mean they got to pick it up."

"I asked you a question, damn you! Who planned those murders? Who tells a lie every time he draws a breath? Who the hell is it that's been fornicating with me, and God knows how many others?"

"Oh, well," I said. "It don't count when I do those things."

"It don't count! What the hell do you mean?"

I said I meant I was just doing my job, followin' the holy precepts laid down in the Bible. "It's what I'm supposed to do, you know, to punish the heck out of people for bein' people. To coax 'em into revealin' theirselves, an' then kick the crap out of 'em. And it's a god-danged hard job, Rose, honey, and I figure that if I can get a little pleasure in the process of trappin' folks I'm mighty well entitled to it."

Rose stared at me, frowning.

"What is this?" she said. "What kind of nutty talk is that?"

"Well, now, I guess it does sound kind of nutty," I said, "but that ain't hardly no ways my fault. By rights, I should be rompin' on the high an' the mighty, the folks that really run this country. But I ain't allowed to touch them, so I've got to make up for it by being twice as hard on the white trash an' Negroes, and people like you that let their brains sink down to their butts because they couldn't find no place else to use them. Yes, sir, I'm laborin' in the Lord's vineyard, and if I can't reach up high, I got to work all the harder on the low-hangin' vines. For the Lord loft a willin' worker, Rose; He liketh to see a man bustin' his ass during workin' hours. And I got them hours cut way, way down with eatin' and sleepin', but I can't eat and sleep all the time."

I'd let my eyes drift shut while I was talking. When I opened them Rose was gone, but I heard her moving around in Myra's room.

I went to the door and hooked in.

She'd stripped out of her clothes, and was trying on some of Myra's. I asked her if she was figurin' on going somewhere, and she gave me a look that would have fried an egg.

"Am I going somewhere," she said bitterly. "As if you didn't know what I was going to do, what I have to do!"

I said I reckoned she'd be taking the dawn train out of town, because no one would see her leave that way and she'd have a full day's start before I got excited and worried about Myra and Lennie and got around to discovering that they was murdered.

"Of course, that dawn train don't carry passengers, they just got a water-stop here. But I reckon them trainmen will be proud to let you ride when they see how friendly you are. I bet they won't charge you a cent, which makes things pretty nice since you don't have no money you can put your hands on."

Rose bit her lips; shook her head wonderingly.

"You're actually enjoying this, aren't you? You're getting a kick out of it!"

"Not really," I said. "It's just part of my job, you know, to gloat over folks in trouble."

"Nick," she said. "What's happened to you? When did you get like this?"

I said, well, sir, if she meant when had the truth been revealed to me, it had been happenin' for a long time. Bit by bit, I'd been given a glimpse of it, and now and then I'd think I knew what it was, and now an' then I was just mystified and scared. I didn't know from what for, and I'd get the idea that I must be goin' crazy or something. And then, tonight, at her house, as I stood outside of myself plannin' things, and then as I'd watched what I'd planned to take place, it was sort of like someone had pulled a trigger in my mind and there was one great big flash of light, and at last! saw the whole truth; at last I saw why things were as they were, and why I was as I was.

"I saw it all, honey,"! said. "I saw the truth and the glory; and it ain't going to be nearways so bad for you as you might think. Why, a gal like you can make herself a mint in them river towns, just doin' what you like to do, and I never knew no gal that done it any better. And speakin' of that, and as long as we won't be seem' each other no more, I've got no objection to cleaving unto you for five or ten minutes even if you are sort of a fugitive from the law."

Rose snatched up the alarm clock from the dresser and flang it at me. It smashed against the wall, and what I mean is it really smashed.

"Now, god-dang it, Rose," I said. "How the god-dang heck am I goin' to wake up in time for church?"

"Church! Church! " she moaned. "You going to church after-after-! Oh, you son-of-a-bitch! Oh, you sneaky, tricky, lying, mealy-mouthed bastard!"

"Now, there you go again," I said. "There ain't no sure use of pretendin' no longer, 'cause now I know you're mad at me."

She cut loose with another blast of cuss words. Then, she whirled back around to the mirror, and began fussin' with the dress she was trying on.

"It's that Amy Mason, isn't it?" she said. "You're getting rid of everyone so you can marry her."

"Well," I said. "I got to admit I've been studyin' about it."

"I'll bet you have! I just bet you have, you double-crossing skunk!"

"Yes, sir," I said. "I've been studyin' about it, but the fact is I can't make up my mind. It ain't that she's a sinner, because she's one of the quality an' they got their own laws and rules and I don't have to bother with 'em. But I'm afraid marryin' her might interfere with my work. Y'see, I got my job to do, Rose; I got to go on bein' High Sheriff, the highest legal authority in Potts County, this place that's the world to most people here, because they never see nothin' else. I just got to be High Sheriff, because I've been pecculyarly an' singularly fitted for it, and I ain't allowed to give it up. Every now an' then, I think I'm goin' to get out of it, but always the thoughts are put in my head and the words in my mouth to hold me in my place. I got to be it, Rose. I got to be High Sheriff of Potts County forever an' ever. I got to go on an' on, doin' the Lord's work; and all he does is the pointin' Rose, all He does is pick out the people an' I got to exercise His wrath on 'em. And I'll tell you a secret, Rose, they's plenty of times when I don't agree with Him at all. But I got nothing to say about it. I'm the High Sheriff of Potts County, an' I ain't supposed to do nothing that really needs doing, nothin' that might jeopardize my job. All I can do is follow the pointin' of the Lord's finger, striking down the pore sinners that no one gives a good god-dang about. Like! say, I've tried to get out of it; I've figured on runnin'away and stayin'away. But I can't, and I know I'll never be able to. I got to keep on like I'm doin' now, and I'm afraid Amy would never understand that or put up with it. So I misdoubt I'll be marryin' her."

Rose gazed at me in the mirror. She studied me for a long time, puzzled, angry, frightened, and then she shrugged and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, brother!" she said. "What a bull artist!"

"Now, god-dang it, Rose," I said. "You just think about it a little and it'll make plenty of sense for you. Ain't it logical that I should appear here in Potts County, which is just about as close to the asshole of creation as you can get without havin' a finger snapped off? And don't I have to be just another fella- just a man, like I was the first time-and don't I have to act like one, just the same as anyone else? When in Potts County, do what the Potts County folks do, like the fella says. An' if you want to promote anyone to glory, why do it privately, because people want logical explanations for everything, particularly for the miracle of promotin' people to glory."

Rose made a farting noise with her lips. "Brother!" she said again. "Are you ever full of crap!"

"Now, don't you say that, Rose," I said. "Please, please don't. I've been a long time figuring things out, and now I finally done it; I finally explained things to myself, and! had to explain 'em, Rose, or go crazy. An' even now, sometimes, I find a doubt or so creepin' in, and I can't stand it, I honest to God can't stand it. So, please, honey, please don't… don't…"

I turned and stumbled off to my bedroom.

I prayed mightily and pretty soon I got a grip on myself, and my doubts went away. I prayed mightily and the strength flowed back into me, and I didn't hardly mind at all the names that Rose was fussin' and cussin' at me. And I could even have kissed her goodbye when she left, and maybe've given her a pinch or two, if she hadn't threatened to brain me if I so much as touched her.

24

I went to church like always, and I was asked to sing in the choir like I'd been doin' up until the time it had hooked like Sam Gaddis was going to beat me out for sheriff. So I sang out loud an' clear, shouting the praises of the Lord and god-dang if! didn't practically raise the roof with Amens when the minister started preachin'. I reckon I must've prayed and shouted an' sang louder than anyone in the church, and after everything was over the minister wrung me by the hand and called me Brother, and said he saw the spirit was truly in me.

"And where is good Sister Myra today? Not ill, I hope."

"Well, no, I reckon not," I said. "She and Lennie drove out to see Sister Rose Hauck last night, and I didn't discover until this morning that the horse had run off and come back to town by hisself. I guess that's what happened, anyway, because the horse is in the stable an' she and Lennie ain't come home yet."

"Yes?" He frowned a little. "But haven't you phoned the Hauck house?"

"Oh, I didn't see no point in that," I said. "I couldn't have picked her up, anyway, before church and I sure didn't want to miss church. I figured I'll probably drive out in time to bring her in for evenin' services."

"Yes," he said, still kind of frowning. "Well…"

"Hallelujah!" I said. "Praise the Lord, Brother!"

I went on home, and fixed myself a bite to eat. Then I washed up the dishes, and put 'em away, and after I'd done that I went into my room and dropped down on the bed. Just laid there, doin' nothing in particular and not workin' very hard at it.

I found a long hair sticking out of my nose, and! jerked it out and looked at it, and it didn't look particularly interesting. I dropped it to the floor, wonderin' if falling hair from fella's noses was noted along with fallin' sparrows. I raised up on one cheek of my butt, and eased out one of those long rattly farts, like you never can get rid of when other folks are around. I scratched my balls, tryin' to decide at what point a fella stopped scratchin' and started playin'. Which is an age-old question, I guess, and one that ain't likely to be solved in the near future.

I listened, tryin' to hear Myra out in the kitchen.! started puzzlin' over where Lennie might be, and thinking maybe I ought to go out and look for him before he got into trouble. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't take a run out to see Rose, and pleasure her up a little if Tom wasn't to home.

It seemed like a good idea, the more! thought about it. And I was clean out into the living room before! suddenly remembered; and I dropped down hard into a chair, and buried my face in my hands. Trying to sort things out. Trying to fit them back together in the only way they made sense.

Buck came in-Ken Lacey's deputy, you know. I was kind of befuddled for a minute, so absorbed with fittin' things together that I couldn't quite place him. But there was the gun hangin' from his hip and his deputy sheriff's badge and his long leathery face, so of course I remembered pretty fast.

We shook hands and I told him to set down. "I bet you prob'ly run into my wife downtown," I said. "I bet she told you just to come right on up here and walk in without knockin', because I wouldn't mind a bit, didn't she?"

"Nope," said Buck.

"You mean it didn't happen that way?"

"Yep," said Buck.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Buck. "What happened was I was huntin' me a skunk, and when I'm a-huntin' skunk I don't stand none on ceremony, I just bust right in wherever I smell him."

"Well," I said. "Well, now. How you standin' all this weather?"

"Tol'able. Just tol'able."

"You reckon it's goin' to get any hotter?"

"Yep," said Buck. "Yes, sir, it's goin' to get a lot hotter. Wouldn't surprise me none if it got so hot for a certain fella that didn't keep his bounden bargain with me that he just naturally won't be able to stand it."

I got a bottle out of the sideboard and filled a couple of glasses. He took the one! handed him, and threw it against the wall.

"Like to keep my hands free," he explained. "Kind of a habit with me when I'm around a fella that don't keep his bounden agreements."

"Buck," I said. "I just couldn't do it! I was willin' to but it was just plumb impossible!"

"No, it wasn't," Buck said. "More some over, it ain't."

"But you don't understand, god-dang it! I possolutely couldn't do it because-"

"Ain't interested in no becauses or whys or whichfors," Buck said. "You 'n' me had a bargain, and I done my part in gettin' Ken down here. Now you do your part an' drop that rope over his neck, or I'm goin' to put it around yours."

I told him that would be a pretty trick to see, but maybe he'd better not attempt it. "Might be you'd get it around your own neck."

"Maybe," Buck said. "But then I reckon not. I reckon I could go right on a-playin' a part, like! got so much practice doin' around Ken Lacey."

"Such as?" I said.

"Such as bein' in such a state of fear and tremblin' that I didn't dast do anything when you told me you was goin' to kill them two pimps. Also, along with being feared and trembly, I was just plain stupid, and I didn't reckon there was no way we could ever convict you until this fella, George Barnes, came along and he don't like you none at all nohow an' I figure he could somehow prove the truth with me tellin' him what it was, an' also swearin' to it."

"Buck," I said. "Listen to me, Buck…"

"Uh-huh." Buck shook his head. "let a peck of dirt a day, every day I worked for Ken Lacey. Et so much dirt that I could feel it seepin' out of me, and I couldn't hardly bear to hug my kids no more nor t'sheep with my wife for fear it would rub off on them, and they couldn't never get clean like I figured I couldn't never get clean. Well, now, I got a chance to stop eatin' it and put Ken Lacey under six feet of it. And don't you try to stop me, Nick. You try to stop me, and t'me you're just Ken Lacey; you're his twin brother, spoonin' the dirt into me every time I open my mouth, and I just can't eat no more. I just can't, by God, I CAN'T EAT NO MORE DIRT! I C-CAN'T-"

His jaw snapped shut. He brushed his nose with his sleeve, his eyes burnin' into mine. "That's it, Nick. I'd rather it was Ken, but it's goin' to be you or him."

I took a drink from my glass, giving him time to get calmed down a little.

Then I told him why he couldn't do it, revealin' who I was for the first time. He didn't seem a speck surprised, beyond raising his eyebrows for a second. The fact was, I guess, that he probably thought I was jokin' or crazy-he didn't care much which. An' I suppose! should have expected that-because what would you have thought?-but I was still a mite disappointed.

I told him again, just to make sure he'd heard me right. He shook his head, sayin' he reckoned I was wrong.

"Prob'ly got yourself mixed up with that other fella," he said. "The one with the same front initial."

"That's right, Buck!" I said. "That's right! I'm both, don't you see? The fella that gets betrayed and the one that does the betrayin' all in one man!"

He didn't seem even nowheres near convinced. I jumped up and went over to the window, thinkin' that maybe I would see a sign. But all I could see was a couple of dogs, frolickin' around and sniffing each other.

I stood watching them, and I guess I laughed out loud without knowin' it.

"That grave-dirt ticklin' you?" Buck drawled. "You already got one foot in it, you know."

"I was just watching a couple of dogs out here," I said, "and it reminded me of a story I heard one time. You ever hear it, Buck?-! mean why dogs always go around sniffing each other's asses?"

Buck said he hadn't heard it. "Can't say that I'm real interested in hearin' it, neither, just in case you was figurin' on telling it."

I said, that, well, sir, accordin' to this story, all the dogs in the world held a convention back in the beginning of time, their purpose being to set up a code of conduct, like maybe it shouldn't be fair to bite each other in the balls and so on. And there was this one dog that had a copy of Robert's Rules of Order that he'd got somewhere, prob'ly at the same place Cain got his wife. So he automatically became chairman, and the first thing he done was to declare the entire convention a committee of the hole. "Fellas," he says, "canines of the convention. I don't want to tread on no honorable dogs' paws, so I'll just put it this way. When we go back in them smoke-filled rooms to caucus, I'm sure we don't want to smell nothing but smoke, and the best thing to do it seems to me is to pile our assholes outside, and if someone will make a motion to that effect, I'll certainly be glad to put a second on it." Well, sir, it seemed like such a danged good idea that every dog in the convention jumped up to make the motion, so the chairman declared it passed by acclamation, and there was a brief recess while all the dogs went outside to stack up their asshohes. Then, they went back inside t'carry out their business. And god-danged if a heck of a storm didn't blow up out of nowhere, and it scattered them asshohes every which way, mixin' 'em up so bad that not a one of them dogs was ever able to find his own. So that's why they still go around sniffing butts, and they'll probably keep on until the end of time. Because a dog that's lost his ass just can't be happy, even if one of 'em is pretty much like another, and the one he has is in good working order.

"What I'm saying is this, Buck," I said. "Hang on to your own ass, and don't try to get Ken's. For all you know, he may be eatin' a lot worse than dirt and I may be too, and you'll be a lot happier like you are."

"Is that all you got to say?" Buck said, and I could hear him getting up from his chair. "You're sure that's all you got to say?"

I hesitated, thinkin' I should be able to come up with somethin'. Because it was all so clear to me, Christ knew it was clear: love one another and don't screw no one unless they're bending over, and forgive us our trespasses because we may be a minority of one. For God's sake, for God's sake-why else had I been put here in Potts County, and why else did I stay here? Why else, who else, what else but Christ Almighty would put up with it?

But I couldn't make him see that. He was as blind as the rest of 'em.

"Well, Nick? I ain't waiting much longer."

"And you don't have to, Buck," I said. "You don't have to because I finally come to a decision. I've been a long time comin' to it; it's been the product of thinkin' and thinkin' and thinkin', and then some more thinkin'. And dependin' on how you look at it, it's the god-dangest whingdingest decision ever made, or it's the skitty-assed worst. Because it explains everything that goes on in the world-it answers everything and it answers nothing.

"So here it is, Buck, here's my decision. I thought and I thought and then I thought some more, and finally I came to a decision. I decided I don't no more know what to do than if I was just another lousy human being!"