Chapter 11"Mama, am I gonna stay at Grandma Ming's?""No, Bandershanks, you'd better go to Miss Ophelia's house with me. It'll probably be late before we come home. When there's a death, you never can tell what's to be done. Here, stick this other shoe on and let's go to the kitchen and get you some breakfast.""I want lots, and lots, and lots of breakfast!"Doanie was back before the butter in my biscuits had melted and before I'd tasted my strips of fried salt meat. She pushed the kitchen door shut and came straight to the cook stove, wringing her hands together and saying, "Chile, this is the coldest day the Lawd done made!" Doanie blew her breath on her fingers and kept rubbing her hands. She held them up over the steam coming from the teakettle.As soon as Doanie's hands got warm and limbered up, Mama told her to help me wash my face. Doanie poured lots of water in the wash pan, and I thought for a second or two she was going to scrub my ears off. Finally, she gave my face one last swipe and emptied the pan of soapy water out the back door."Now. That does hit. Dry yourself off good. You looks clean as a kitten with a fresh-licked face!"The minute Doanie got my mittens and wraps on me, I ran out to climb in the buggy. Sun Boy had already loaded on the stovewood and had stacked it all the way up to the back of the seat. So when Doanie came out bringing the collard greens and meat and coffee and buttermilk-and all the sheets and quilts and stuff Mama had gathered up—she had to pack the whole works in front. The sack of eggs she set up on the seat by me.Mama told me to prop my feet up on the pile of quilts. The thickest one she slid out and unfolded to wrap around our legs. Even that heavy cotton quilt didn't keep us from shivering and shaking as we drove down the road.After we crossed Rocky Head Creek, we turned right on a little side road. Mama said it was a short cut, a different road from the one we took Sunday when Papa went with us to Miss Ophelia's.We heard a gunshot way off up the creek."Who's that shooting, Mama?""Just somebody hunting squirrels, or maybe partridges. I sure wish your papa had time to kill us some. We haven't had a partridge on the table since Thanksgiving Day! And not many squirrels."As soon as we got out of the creek bottom, we crossed over a steep ridge, and then I could see fields and two houses—one was Ned's house, and the other one, with two chimneys, was Miss Ophelia's. It took only a few more minutes to get there."I declare, look at the wagons and buggies, Bandershanks! We'll have to go on around to the side yard."Papa was standing on the porch, talking to some men. More men were down at the wagon shelter, where they were looking at Mister Ward's automobile. One man was up in it, trying out the hand wheel and the pedals.As soon as Papa noticed us, he came around the house to help us get out."Nannie, drive Dale up in the yard, and I'll hitch him to this corner post. It's a good thing you brought this dry stovewood, 'cause when I got here, there wasn't a stick cut. I finally got Ned to chop kindling for both fireplaces.""Jodie, what have you found out?""Not much, yet. You remember Miss Dink's half-brother, Mister Hiram?""Of course. He was the man who brought Bandershanks home.""Well, Uncle Hiram, as they call him, found Ward early this morning, lying down yonder below the barn, about halfway between the barn and the woods."Papa kept talking as he lifted Mama down to the ground. "Uncle Hiram couldn't tell if Ward was dead or not, he said. So he hobbled across the field quick as he could to Ned's. He got Ned and some of his boys to help tote Ward to the house. He sent Ned's oldest boy to Ralph Ware's to phone for the doctor, and he got Ned to run and tell Wes and Lida Belle. 'Course it was pretty soon after that when Wes phoned me, like I told you.""Yeah. Then what?""Ralph said he never could get the doctor."Papa helped me down. When my feet touched the ground, they felt so stiff I had to grab Mama's skirt to keep from falling."Is Doctor Elton here yet?""He got over here right after I did, but Ward was already dead. He didn't even examine him—just took one look at him and said he'd been dead all night."Mama picked up the bucket of buttermilk and the eggs. She let me carry the sack of coffee. Papa gathered up some of the other sacks and boxes, and we walked up to Miss Ophelia's house."How is Ophelia taking it?""Oh, she's in hysterics. I reckon anybody would be. But, Nannie, old Miss Dink is the one in bad shape.""Worse off than she was yesterday evening?""Yeah. Lots worse. Lida Belle says the old soul's talking out of her head.""Lida Belle's here?""Her and Wes both. I figure they don't want anybody suspecting that anything's wrong at their house.""Has anybody notified Ward's folks yet?""Uncle Hiram's gone back home to get his wife and to get word to the kin over around Millers Crossing.""What about Ophelia's young'uns?""Most of them are at the schoolhouse. Uncle Hiram came the day before yesterday to take Miss Dink back to his house, but she was too bad off. So, he took the older young'uns home with him. I guess he figured it would help Ophelia. This morning he brought them back, straight to the schoolhouse. Then he came on over here.""How'd he know where to look for Ward?""He didn't. He said when he first got here Ophelia told him Ward sneaked home Sunday but didn't stay long.""But, Jodie, she vowed she hadn't seen him!""Well, anyhow, Uncle Hiram went down to the barn to feed the mules and to milk the cow. But the cow got out of the pen and was already way down the lane. He went to drive her back up, and that's when he saw Ward slumped down by the fence."Papa pushed open the back door. There was nobody in the kitchen, and we didn't hear any sounds coming from the other part of the house."Nannie, some of the men seem to think Ward might've shot himself on purpose. And I wouldn't put it past him. He was a crazy, curious man. But, I oughtn't to criticize the dead.""I'm wondering about Ward's automobile. When do you guess he—""Ned told me this Hicks fellow and another man brought it a few minutes before I got over here. 'Course they left, right away."As soon as Mama hung her cloak and mine behind the kitchen door, she led me into the fireplace room, where Miss Ophelia and Miss Lida Belle and a big wide lady Mama called Mrs. Lee were sitting.Miss Ophelia was holding her little baby boy on her lap and was rocking him back and forth. We could tell he was about to fall asleep, for every time he tried to open up his eyelids, they drooped back down again. He was two times as fat as he was that night when he was sleeping in the Christmas hay at church.Mama spoke to all the women, and they spoke, but nobody did any more talking. They all kept sitting there, quiet. There wasn't a little chair for me, so Mama crossed her knees and let me squeeze in on the edge of her rocker.The old ladies had drawn their chairs close to the hearth, and there they sat, their hands folded, just looking into the fire. After I had watched them for a while, I noticed they didn't even have their snuff-dipping brushes in their mouths. The front door squeaked.I looked around. Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes were coming in from the hall. Papa and the doctor took off their hats, and after Mister Wes sat down in the chair next to Miss Ophelia, he pulled his off, too. He held it in his hands, twisting it round and round, folding and refolding the middle crease."Miss Ophelia," he said, "I hate to trouble you at a time like this, but I reckon I'll have to ask you a little bit about Ward.""It's all right, Mister Wes.""The county coroner sent word by Mister Jodie that we don't have to have no reg'lar inquest 'less we figger somebody shot Ward. 'Course we don't rigger nothin' like that, but when somebody dies under odd circumstances, we sorta have to look into it.""Yes, sir."The baby fretted and whimpered, and I just knew if Mister Wes didn't quit talking so loud, he was going to wake up and cry. Miss Ophelia kept rocking her chair real easy, and he drifted back to sleep. Miss Lida Belle leaned over to Mrs. Lee and said something about seeing to the cooking.They both got up then and went into the kitchen.Mister Wes kept on twisting his hat and talking to Miss Ophelia. He asked a lot of strange questions. She said, "Yes, sir" to some, "No, sir" to others. I couldn't tell if she knew just what he was talking about or not. I surely didn't."Miss Ophelia, if you wouldn't mind, just tell us what happened Sunday.""There ain't much to tell, Mister Wes. Ward, he s'prised me! He slipped home Sunday morning—first time I'd seen him since Christmas. He was just ranting and fussing, like he always does. And, I don't like to say it here in front of Miss Nannie, but he was drinking—like he always does.""Did he say anything outta the ordinary?""Well, he did talk a right smart. Seemed like Ward hated ever' body and ever' thing yesterday, even himself. He blessed me out twice for letting the young'uns go home with my uncle. Oh, God 'a mercy! The young'uns! Their own pa, lying yonder in the front room, cold dead, and they don't even know it! Ohhh-hh-h! I forgot my poor young'uns. They're all I've got left in this world."Mama put me down so she could go over to Miss Ophelia. Miss Ophelia's hollering and crying got louder. Mama told her over and over not to worry about the children. Finally she got quiet; then Mama took the sleeping baby from her arms and eased him down on the bed nearest to the fireplace."Miss Ophelia, did Ward say anything a-tall about goin' huntin'?""Yes, sir, Mister Wes. 'Bout middle of the evening, just 'fore Miss Nannie come in bringing us them vittles, I was in the kitchen, and he come in. He was riled 'bout something, and in a rush. I asked him to chop a little wood, and he said he didn't have time. Said he was going a-hunting."I told him, 'Ward, this is Sunday. You oughtn't to hunt on Sunday.' He said, 'To Hell with the day o' the week. I'm goin' ahuntin'. And, I just might kill myself a coon!' Then he grabbed down his shotgun and went storming out the back door.""Did you hear any shootin'?""Yes, sir. Later on, while Miss Nannie and Mister Jodie was here, I heard lots of shooting.""Which way did Ward go?""Mister Wes, I don't have no clear notion. I heard Aunt Dink groaning, and I went running in the side room to see 'bout her. Oh, God 'a mercy! Poor Aunt Dink! She ain't had a mouthful to eat this morning! I'd better go see 'bout her.""Now, now," Mama told her. "We'll look after Miss Dink. Doctor Elton's right here, so don't you worry."What Mama told Miss Ophelia didn't do a bit of good. She just started wailing and crying all over again. I couldn't stand to hear her, so when Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes put on their hats and left the room, I followed them.Papa didn't notice I was walking along behind him, for he was listening to the doctor and Mister Wes, who were talking low, both at the same time. Doctor Elton tried to tell Mister Wes when rigor-something-or-other set in, but Mister Wes kept asking questions. Then he wouldn't wait for the doctor's answer before he started talking again himself.A hard gust of wind swept through the house as we were crossing the open hall. Both Papa and the doctor had to grab at their hats to keep them from being blown away."This dratted wind cuts like a razor," Mister Wes muttered. He turned his cloak collar up to his ears and opened the door of the front room.There lay Mister Ward on the bed! Somebody had spread a white sheet over him, so all I could see was his muddy boots sticking out at the bottom, his red hair at the top.Two or three men sitting in front of the fireplace got up, and some more men I had seen in the hall walked in right behind me. Then Old Man Hawk came in.Nobody in the room was saying anything. They all seemed to be waiting for the doctor, or Papa, or somebody, to pull back the white sheet.The doctor bent over the bed and pushed the sheet to one side. He unbuttoned Mister Ward's hunting coat and ran his hand down inside the big pocket."Here're some soggy matches," he said, "and two shells—and his bottle. It's empty. Here, Jodie, set it up there on the mantel. Well, I'll be damned! A squirrel!"Doctor Elton pulled a chunky red squirrel out of Mister Ward's coat pocket and held it up so we could all see it. Nobody said a word. The doctor looked at the squirrel again and felt of it."Umm-mm-m. A young fox squirrel. A pretty thing.""Can I hold him some?" I asked the doctor."Bandershanks!" Papa seemed surprised to see me, but he didn't scold. He only watched as Doctor Elton handed me the fat, curled-up little squirrel. I ran my fingers along over its back and smoothed down its soft, thick, reddish-brown fur. Its tail was bushy and fluffy as could be."Better give him back to me, honey," the doctor told me a few minutes later.He took the squirrel, and as soon as Mister Wes pulled the sheet over Mister Ward's face, we all walked out to the front porch. I held to Papa's hand."I reckon we may as well let Ward's dogs have this squirrel for their breakfast," Doctor Elton said. "What do you think, Wes?""Yeah, just throw it to the dogs, Doc. Ward must've shot it right 'fore he started back to the house. I see he didn't gut it."Doctor Elton turned the squirrel over again to look at its stomach. "No, he didn't."Papa gave a shrill whistle. Two hounds asleep at the gate pricked up their ears. He whistled again, and they came trotting toward the porch. Doctor Elton tossed the squirrel to them. Both dogs pounced on it and began pulling it to pieces.Mister Wes started his loud talking again. "I don't figger there's no need o' havin' a inquest. Do you, Jodie?""It's for you to say, Wes. You're the new J.P. But it looks to me like Ward just went squirrel hunting yesterday evening and had an accident right before he got back to the house."Mister Wes walked across the porch toward Doctor Elton. "What you think, Doc?"Old Mister Hawk and the man he was talking with both quit chewing their tobacco and moved closer to the doctor, too. Old Mister Hawk cupped a hand behind one ear, like he thought the doctor was going to say something special. All the other men got quiet. And I stayed still, because I didn't know what Doctor Elton was fixing to tell Mister Wes."Y'all, this is a bad business. Death always is. A man in his prime is gone. And a sickly young widow has eight young'uns at her knees and another on her lap. Their prospects are mighty bleak. Her kinfolks will have to take them in, I reckon. But it appears that Ward's was a case where a man brought death on himself, one way or another. And I honestly doubt if an inquest would do him or anybody else any good.""We just won't hold none then. I'm gonna go down the lane and look 'round one more time so's I can figger just where Ward was tryin' to climb over the fence when his gun went off. It's a pity the rain washed out his tracks. All a-body can see is where we've been trompin' this mornin' and all them holes Uncle Hiram punched in the ground with his peg leg."Every one of the men, except Papa and Doctor Elton, followed Mister Wes down toward the horse lot. Some of them stopped at the wagon shelter to look at Mister Ward's automobile again. The others went on down the lane."I've got to get on back," the doctor was saying. "There's plenty of sickness this time of year, and folks will be calling for me. In winter I'm a popular man, you know. An old, tired, popular man! Ah, Jodie, I got called out at midnight last night, and I haven't seen my pillow since."They stopped at the yard gate. As the doctor unhooked the latch he turned and looked straight at Papa."Jodie, I just hope the Good Lord will forgive me for times when I meddle in His affairs.""You don't meddle.""Sometimes, it's not what you do, Jodie. It's the way you say a thing, or don't, that changes matters. I'm telling you, this whole business worries me.""It's enough to turn anybody's hair.""Me and you might have made a mistake—mainly me. Maybe we should've reported Ward's whiskey still before we did. Maybe he wouldn't be dead today, if we had. Maybe it's a blessing he is dead. I don't know. When I think of that stillborn baby, I— Damn my tongue! Jodie, forget I mentioned a baby! My tongue slipped! I gave my word not to—""I already knew about the baby—Nannie and me. And we're not aiming to talk it. 'Twouldn't help Wes's daughter, nor nobody.""That's the truth! Jodie, I don't know how you look at it, but as I see it, it's best now to let Ward's folks bury him and not stir up a ruckus over the technicalities of just how he died. Far as I'm concerned, it don't make a continental how the gun went off. It's not the how of death that's of any consequence. It's death. If there was ever anything any 'count in Ward Lawson—and there must've been at some time; nobody's worthless all their livelong life—it died a good while back. When, I don't know. But it wasn't Sunday at sundown when that lead ripped through his jugular vein!"Papa and the doctor walked on through the gate into the grove of trees in front of Miss Ophelia's house, where the dozen or more buggies and wagons and saddle horses were waiting. But Doctor Elton wasn't bobbing and bouncing along the way he usually walked. He was dragging his feet, and when he got to the side of his big black buggy, he had to catch one hand on the dashboard and the other on the armrest so he could pull himself up to the seat.Papa tugged at the bridle bit of one mare just enough to make her start backing the buggy a few feet. The doctor gave both mares a light touch with the whip, and they struck up a smooth trot. Turning halfway round, Doctor Elton lifted his hand to Papa.When I saw Papa was going toward the barn instead of coming back to the porch, I scooted down the bare, windy hall to the kitchen.More and more folks, most of them strangers, kept coming to the Lawson house. And it seemed that everything was going wrong and nobody knew what to do. I didn't know what to do either. Mama said for me just to be sweet and stay out of the way.Uncle Dan brought Miss Ophelia's children home. But the girls didn't want to play with me. They just stood around, looking at the houseful of people. The middle girl, Sissie, never would take her thumb out of her mouth—not even long enough to tell me her real name. Eftie, the biggest one, couldn't play because she had to tend to her baby sister.The boy named Philip wouldn't play with me either. He had a bad earache. He had been crying with it when they all came home from the schoolhouse, and he kept on crying, even after Mama heated up a skillet of salt and fixed a poultice sack for him to hold against his ear. Finally, when Aunt Vic warmed some milk for him to drink, he began to feel better.While Aunt Vic was making biscuits, Mama and Miss Lida Belle were trying to decide what would be the best thing to do for Miss Dink."It's dreadful cold in that far side room," Miss Lida Belle told Mama. "Let's move her 'cross the hall to the fireplace room."Mama sent me out to the woodpile to get Papa. He came, and together they rolled Miss Dink up in a blanket, and Papa toted her across the hall. When Papa laid Miss Dink on the freshly made bed, she sank down into the feather mattress so far I could hardly see her wrinkled face. Something had made her cheeks turn a strange yellowish color. And she wasn't laughing like she had been that day she told me and Mama how a long time ago she smeared hog lard on Miss Ophelia's seven-year itch."Nannie," Papa whispered as he started out, "soon's you get time, ask what clothes Ophelia wants us to use."As soon as Mama went over to Miss Ophelia's chair and began talking to her, she started crying again."Them things in the big trunk is all. They're all he's got, Miss Nannie."I didn't know what trunk or what things she was talking about till a few minutes later when I followed Mama and Miss Lida Belle into the far side room. There we found two trunks over against the back wall, one flat on top, the other humpbacked—both dusty. Mama lifted the lid of the humpbacked one."It smells terrible, Mama! Just like Grandma Ming's big old trunk! That one with all them little white balls in it.""'Course, hon. All trunks have to have camphor balls in them, else the moths will get in."There wasn't a thing in the tray of the trunk except a handful of dry, shriveled-up roses. Down in the bottom, though, we saw a long white dress with lots of lace on it and a man's dark Sunday suit.Miss Lida Belle caught her breath. "Nannie! It's their wedding clothes! Is there a white shirt?""I'm afraid not.""This other trunk is slam empty, Nannie."Mama pulled out a wrinkled black coat and a pair of pants and handed them to Miss Lida Belle. Then she laid the wedding dress and the dead roses back in place."Move your fingers, Bandershanks. This heavy lid could cut them off.""Well, Wes's got two white shirts. I'll just go get one o' them. He'll never miss it, but don't say nothin', Nannie.""You want Jodie to take you home in the buggy?""Naw, naw. I'll cut through the woods. It's not more'n a quarter of a mile."While Miss Lida Belle was gone, Mama set Miss Ophelia's ironing board up on the backs of two straight chairs and put two flatirons on the kitchen stove to heat. But she couldn't find Miss Ophelia's cake of beeswax.Aunt Vic knew what to do. She just stepped out in the back yard and broke off a few little sprigs from a cedar tree."Cedar's just as good as wax when it comes to making your iron smooth," she told me as she was stacking the prickly green needles on the end of the ironing board.Mama had the wrinkles pressed out of the suit by the time Miss Lida Belle got back with Mister Wes's white shirt and a celluloid collar that went with it."Lemme run the iron over these cuffs, Nannie. Looks like the last time I ironed this shirt, I must've just give it a lick and a promise. Here, I thought I'd better bring this too."Miss Lida Belle handed Mama a narrow string of a black tie. Mama handed it to me."You can tote the tie, Bandershanks."We took the tie and the suit and the shirt and stiff collar up to the door of the front room and handed them to Papa. Mama didn't say so, but I knew Papa and Uncle Dan were going to dress up Mister Ward.I knew why: you have to get dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting things when you die and go to Heaven. God's up there, and it wouldn't be very nice to go to see God with just weekday clothes on.Up in the middle of the day, Mama and the other women put dinner on the kitchen table. Some of the folks who had been there all morning ate; some didn't.Mama couldn't get Miss Ophelia to eat anything. Not till Mama said, "Now, Ophelia, you'll just have to eat a little something to keep your strength up," would she even sip any black coffee. She nibbled at a piece of pound cake.Aunt Lovie had brought the cake, and it was good. Aunt Vic let me have two slices of it to keep up my strength.Another wagonload of people came right after dinner. Papa went out to the well lot to meet them, and so did I. They were wrapped in heavy cloaks and had warm bricks and blankets at their feet, but their faces were red, and they looked cold.The man holding the reins said, "Whew, Mister Jodie, we finally made it, but I don't know if I'll ever thaw out or not!""It's the worst cold spell we've had, all right. Y'all just go on in. I'll hitch your team, and all."As soon as the people got in the house, they went straight into the front room. The women all looked at Mister Ward and cried. The men bit their lips together tight and didn't make a sound.I wanted to go home.I went back outside, looking for Papa. When I couldn't find him, I ran into the kitchen, where Mama and Aunt Vic were getting food warmed up for the kinfolks who had just come. Aunt Vic said that they lived far away and were bound to be tired and hungry."Mama, I wanta go home.""We'll be going now in just a little while."The sun was down to the pickets of Miss Ophelia's garden fence when we finally did put on our cloaks to leave. Papa got some boy with Mister Goode to ride Jake home so he could go with Mama and me in the buggy. Aunt Vic followed us to the door."Vic, me and Jodie will be back over here around midnight to sit up till day. Then you and Lovie and Dan and some of the others can get some rest.""I won't mind staying up all night, Nannie. Somebody's got to keep coffee boiled.""I know, but there's no need for so many to sit up. And the way things have turned out, we may be here helping most of the day tomorrow. Jodie said the carpenter Ward's folks got to make the coffin can't send it till way up in the morning."On the way home Papa and Mama talked of all the folks who had come to the Lawson house and of what was said and what was left unsaid. Mama thought it was a shame none of Ward's folks had sent for the preacher. Papa thought it was too late for a preacher to help matters.Papa wanted to know if Miss Lida Belle had mentioned Addle Mae. Mama said that woman didn't part her lips about the girl all day long.Then Mama told Papa where Miss Lida Belle got the white shirt. And Papa told Mama about the red fox squirrel the doctor found in Ward's pocket."Poor little squirrel!""What makes you say that, Bandershanks?""Mama, they threw him to the dogs! And he was so soft and warm. He was a pretty thing! Wasn't he pretty, Papa?""So soft and warm?""Yes, sir.""Great Jehoshaphat and gully dirt!Yeah, he was pretty! But I didn't know he was still warm! My Lord! Nannie, do you realize what that means?""I sure do! If he wasn't cold yet, somebody stuffed that squirrel into Ward's coat pocket this morning!""Exactly!""What's the matter, Papa?""Nothing, Bandershanks. We probably won't ever know all the truth about that fox squirrel, or about the so-called coon Ward wanted to kill."I leaned over to put my head in Mama's lap. She told me that I could just go to sleep and she'd wake me when we got home. So I shut my eyes tight. Dale's feet kept clumping. The wheels kept grinding."Poor little gal. What a day for her. Look, Nannie, she's already sound asleep."But I wasn't. So, I shut my eyes tighter."Jodie, what do you aim to do?""It's too late now to do anything this evening, Nannie. Besides, I don't know that we ought'a try. If you stop to think about it, you couldn't prove who put the squirrel in his pocket. I reckon the doctor saw that. I'm trying to remember just what all he said. Him and Bandershanks was the only ones who touched that red fox squirrel. I know he must've noticed it was still warm.""Do you figure it was Wes, or who?""I just don't hardly know what to think, Nannie. When I recollect and piece together what Doanie told you, and what Ophelia told Wes, and what Doctor Elton told me, it all seems clear enough. Either Wes or Ned killed him, I reckon. Still, Ward could've shot himself.""Yeah, he could have.""And any one of several persons, who did or didn't know what all had happened, might've slipped the squirrel into Ward's pocket to cover suspicious-looking circumstances. It might've even been that Hicks fellow who was in on the whiskey-making. Remember, he was over there early this morning.""Jodie, it's bound to have been Wes Bailey.""Well, maybe. Ward ruined Addle Mae. But, Nannie, had you thought of this: Wes couldn't afford to kill Ward. If he did, folks would ask why, and that would bring up Addie Mae's name. So Wes didn't dare.""You guess then it was Ned?""I wouldn't think it of Ned. But Ward must've thought Ned had told the Law about the still. You remember Ophelia said that Ward was going to 'get him a coon'? Thecoonwas Ned!""Jodie, oughtn't we to tell somebody about—""Nannie, for the time being, I aim to put the whole mess outta my mind. Sometimes, what happens is best left to the Good Lord. He can handle justice for all kinds of creatures: black coons, red squirrels, white men, black men—any kind, any color. Your pa used to preach that.""Yeah. Pa got it outta the Bible. It says He takes note when a sparrow falls."
"Mama, am I gonna stay at Grandma Ming's?"
"No, Bandershanks, you'd better go to Miss Ophelia's house with me. It'll probably be late before we come home. When there's a death, you never can tell what's to be done. Here, stick this other shoe on and let's go to the kitchen and get you some breakfast."
"I want lots, and lots, and lots of breakfast!"
Doanie was back before the butter in my biscuits had melted and before I'd tasted my strips of fried salt meat. She pushed the kitchen door shut and came straight to the cook stove, wringing her hands together and saying, "Chile, this is the coldest day the Lawd done made!" Doanie blew her breath on her fingers and kept rubbing her hands. She held them up over the steam coming from the teakettle.
As soon as Doanie's hands got warm and limbered up, Mama told her to help me wash my face. Doanie poured lots of water in the wash pan, and I thought for a second or two she was going to scrub my ears off. Finally, she gave my face one last swipe and emptied the pan of soapy water out the back door.
"Now. That does hit. Dry yourself off good. You looks clean as a kitten with a fresh-licked face!"
The minute Doanie got my mittens and wraps on me, I ran out to climb in the buggy. Sun Boy had already loaded on the stovewood and had stacked it all the way up to the back of the seat. So when Doanie came out bringing the collard greens and meat and coffee and buttermilk-and all the sheets and quilts and stuff Mama had gathered up—she had to pack the whole works in front. The sack of eggs she set up on the seat by me.
Mama told me to prop my feet up on the pile of quilts. The thickest one she slid out and unfolded to wrap around our legs. Even that heavy cotton quilt didn't keep us from shivering and shaking as we drove down the road.
After we crossed Rocky Head Creek, we turned right on a little side road. Mama said it was a short cut, a different road from the one we took Sunday when Papa went with us to Miss Ophelia's.
We heard a gunshot way off up the creek.
"Who's that shooting, Mama?"
"Just somebody hunting squirrels, or maybe partridges. I sure wish your papa had time to kill us some. We haven't had a partridge on the table since Thanksgiving Day! And not many squirrels."
As soon as we got out of the creek bottom, we crossed over a steep ridge, and then I could see fields and two houses—one was Ned's house, and the other one, with two chimneys, was Miss Ophelia's. It took only a few more minutes to get there.
"I declare, look at the wagons and buggies, Bandershanks! We'll have to go on around to the side yard."
Papa was standing on the porch, talking to some men. More men were down at the wagon shelter, where they were looking at Mister Ward's automobile. One man was up in it, trying out the hand wheel and the pedals.
As soon as Papa noticed us, he came around the house to help us get out.
"Nannie, drive Dale up in the yard, and I'll hitch him to this corner post. It's a good thing you brought this dry stovewood, 'cause when I got here, there wasn't a stick cut. I finally got Ned to chop kindling for both fireplaces."
"Jodie, what have you found out?"
"Not much, yet. You remember Miss Dink's half-brother, Mister Hiram?"
"Of course. He was the man who brought Bandershanks home."
"Well, Uncle Hiram, as they call him, found Ward early this morning, lying down yonder below the barn, about halfway between the barn and the woods."
Papa kept talking as he lifted Mama down to the ground. "Uncle Hiram couldn't tell if Ward was dead or not, he said. So he hobbled across the field quick as he could to Ned's. He got Ned and some of his boys to help tote Ward to the house. He sent Ned's oldest boy to Ralph Ware's to phone for the doctor, and he got Ned to run and tell Wes and Lida Belle. 'Course it was pretty soon after that when Wes phoned me, like I told you."
"Yeah. Then what?"
"Ralph said he never could get the doctor."
Papa helped me down. When my feet touched the ground, they felt so stiff I had to grab Mama's skirt to keep from falling.
"Is Doctor Elton here yet?"
"He got over here right after I did, but Ward was already dead. He didn't even examine him—just took one look at him and said he'd been dead all night."
Mama picked up the bucket of buttermilk and the eggs. She let me carry the sack of coffee. Papa gathered up some of the other sacks and boxes, and we walked up to Miss Ophelia's house.
"How is Ophelia taking it?"
"Oh, she's in hysterics. I reckon anybody would be. But, Nannie, old Miss Dink is the one in bad shape."
"Worse off than she was yesterday evening?"
"Yeah. Lots worse. Lida Belle says the old soul's talking out of her head."
"Lida Belle's here?"
"Her and Wes both. I figure they don't want anybody suspecting that anything's wrong at their house."
"Has anybody notified Ward's folks yet?"
"Uncle Hiram's gone back home to get his wife and to get word to the kin over around Millers Crossing."
"What about Ophelia's young'uns?"
"Most of them are at the schoolhouse. Uncle Hiram came the day before yesterday to take Miss Dink back to his house, but she was too bad off. So, he took the older young'uns home with him. I guess he figured it would help Ophelia. This morning he brought them back, straight to the schoolhouse. Then he came on over here."
"How'd he know where to look for Ward?"
"He didn't. He said when he first got here Ophelia told him Ward sneaked home Sunday but didn't stay long."
"But, Jodie, she vowed she hadn't seen him!"
"Well, anyhow, Uncle Hiram went down to the barn to feed the mules and to milk the cow. But the cow got out of the pen and was already way down the lane. He went to drive her back up, and that's when he saw Ward slumped down by the fence."
Papa pushed open the back door. There was nobody in the kitchen, and we didn't hear any sounds coming from the other part of the house.
"Nannie, some of the men seem to think Ward might've shot himself on purpose. And I wouldn't put it past him. He was a crazy, curious man. But, I oughtn't to criticize the dead."
"I'm wondering about Ward's automobile. When do you guess he—"
"Ned told me this Hicks fellow and another man brought it a few minutes before I got over here. 'Course they left, right away."
As soon as Mama hung her cloak and mine behind the kitchen door, she led me into the fireplace room, where Miss Ophelia and Miss Lida Belle and a big wide lady Mama called Mrs. Lee were sitting.
Miss Ophelia was holding her little baby boy on her lap and was rocking him back and forth. We could tell he was about to fall asleep, for every time he tried to open up his eyelids, they drooped back down again. He was two times as fat as he was that night when he was sleeping in the Christmas hay at church.
Mama spoke to all the women, and they spoke, but nobody did any more talking. They all kept sitting there, quiet. There wasn't a little chair for me, so Mama crossed her knees and let me squeeze in on the edge of her rocker.
The old ladies had drawn their chairs close to the hearth, and there they sat, their hands folded, just looking into the fire. After I had watched them for a while, I noticed they didn't even have their snuff-dipping brushes in their mouths. The front door squeaked.
I looked around. Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes were coming in from the hall. Papa and the doctor took off their hats, and after Mister Wes sat down in the chair next to Miss Ophelia, he pulled his off, too. He held it in his hands, twisting it round and round, folding and refolding the middle crease.
"Miss Ophelia," he said, "I hate to trouble you at a time like this, but I reckon I'll have to ask you a little bit about Ward."
"It's all right, Mister Wes."
"The county coroner sent word by Mister Jodie that we don't have to have no reg'lar inquest 'less we figger somebody shot Ward. 'Course we don't rigger nothin' like that, but when somebody dies under odd circumstances, we sorta have to look into it."
"Yes, sir."
The baby fretted and whimpered, and I just knew if Mister Wes didn't quit talking so loud, he was going to wake up and cry. Miss Ophelia kept rocking her chair real easy, and he drifted back to sleep. Miss Lida Belle leaned over to Mrs. Lee and said something about seeing to the cooking.
They both got up then and went into the kitchen.
Mister Wes kept on twisting his hat and talking to Miss Ophelia. He asked a lot of strange questions. She said, "Yes, sir" to some, "No, sir" to others. I couldn't tell if she knew just what he was talking about or not. I surely didn't.
"Miss Ophelia, if you wouldn't mind, just tell us what happened Sunday."
"There ain't much to tell, Mister Wes. Ward, he s'prised me! He slipped home Sunday morning—first time I'd seen him since Christmas. He was just ranting and fussing, like he always does. And, I don't like to say it here in front of Miss Nannie, but he was drinking—like he always does."
"Did he say anything outta the ordinary?"
"Well, he did talk a right smart. Seemed like Ward hated ever' body and ever' thing yesterday, even himself. He blessed me out twice for letting the young'uns go home with my uncle. Oh, God 'a mercy! The young'uns! Their own pa, lying yonder in the front room, cold dead, and they don't even know it! Ohhh-hh-h! I forgot my poor young'uns. They're all I've got left in this world."
Mama put me down so she could go over to Miss Ophelia. Miss Ophelia's hollering and crying got louder. Mama told her over and over not to worry about the children. Finally she got quiet; then Mama took the sleeping baby from her arms and eased him down on the bed nearest to the fireplace.
"Miss Ophelia, did Ward say anything a-tall about goin' huntin'?"
"Yes, sir, Mister Wes. 'Bout middle of the evening, just 'fore Miss Nannie come in bringing us them vittles, I was in the kitchen, and he come in. He was riled 'bout something, and in a rush. I asked him to chop a little wood, and he said he didn't have time. Said he was going a-hunting.
"I told him, 'Ward, this is Sunday. You oughtn't to hunt on Sunday.' He said, 'To Hell with the day o' the week. I'm goin' ahuntin'. And, I just might kill myself a coon!' Then he grabbed down his shotgun and went storming out the back door."
"Did you hear any shootin'?"
"Yes, sir. Later on, while Miss Nannie and Mister Jodie was here, I heard lots of shooting."
"Which way did Ward go?"
"Mister Wes, I don't have no clear notion. I heard Aunt Dink groaning, and I went running in the side room to see 'bout her. Oh, God 'a mercy! Poor Aunt Dink! She ain't had a mouthful to eat this morning! I'd better go see 'bout her."
"Now, now," Mama told her. "We'll look after Miss Dink. Doctor Elton's right here, so don't you worry."
What Mama told Miss Ophelia didn't do a bit of good. She just started wailing and crying all over again. I couldn't stand to hear her, so when Papa and Doctor Elton and Mister Wes put on their hats and left the room, I followed them.
Papa didn't notice I was walking along behind him, for he was listening to the doctor and Mister Wes, who were talking low, both at the same time. Doctor Elton tried to tell Mister Wes when rigor-something-or-other set in, but Mister Wes kept asking questions. Then he wouldn't wait for the doctor's answer before he started talking again himself.
A hard gust of wind swept through the house as we were crossing the open hall. Both Papa and the doctor had to grab at their hats to keep them from being blown away.
"This dratted wind cuts like a razor," Mister Wes muttered. He turned his cloak collar up to his ears and opened the door of the front room.
There lay Mister Ward on the bed! Somebody had spread a white sheet over him, so all I could see was his muddy boots sticking out at the bottom, his red hair at the top.
Two or three men sitting in front of the fireplace got up, and some more men I had seen in the hall walked in right behind me. Then Old Man Hawk came in.
Nobody in the room was saying anything. They all seemed to be waiting for the doctor, or Papa, or somebody, to pull back the white sheet.
The doctor bent over the bed and pushed the sheet to one side. He unbuttoned Mister Ward's hunting coat and ran his hand down inside the big pocket.
"Here're some soggy matches," he said, "and two shells—and his bottle. It's empty. Here, Jodie, set it up there on the mantel. Well, I'll be damned! A squirrel!"
Doctor Elton pulled a chunky red squirrel out of Mister Ward's coat pocket and held it up so we could all see it. Nobody said a word. The doctor looked at the squirrel again and felt of it.
"Umm-mm-m. A young fox squirrel. A pretty thing."
"Can I hold him some?" I asked the doctor.
"Bandershanks!" Papa seemed surprised to see me, but he didn't scold. He only watched as Doctor Elton handed me the fat, curled-up little squirrel. I ran my fingers along over its back and smoothed down its soft, thick, reddish-brown fur. Its tail was bushy and fluffy as could be.
"Better give him back to me, honey," the doctor told me a few minutes later.
He took the squirrel, and as soon as Mister Wes pulled the sheet over Mister Ward's face, we all walked out to the front porch. I held to Papa's hand.
"I reckon we may as well let Ward's dogs have this squirrel for their breakfast," Doctor Elton said. "What do you think, Wes?"
"Yeah, just throw it to the dogs, Doc. Ward must've shot it right 'fore he started back to the house. I see he didn't gut it."
Doctor Elton turned the squirrel over again to look at its stomach. "No, he didn't."
Papa gave a shrill whistle. Two hounds asleep at the gate pricked up their ears. He whistled again, and they came trotting toward the porch. Doctor Elton tossed the squirrel to them. Both dogs pounced on it and began pulling it to pieces.
Mister Wes started his loud talking again. "I don't figger there's no need o' havin' a inquest. Do you, Jodie?"
"It's for you to say, Wes. You're the new J.P. But it looks to me like Ward just went squirrel hunting yesterday evening and had an accident right before he got back to the house."
Mister Wes walked across the porch toward Doctor Elton. "What you think, Doc?"
Old Mister Hawk and the man he was talking with both quit chewing their tobacco and moved closer to the doctor, too. Old Mister Hawk cupped a hand behind one ear, like he thought the doctor was going to say something special. All the other men got quiet. And I stayed still, because I didn't know what Doctor Elton was fixing to tell Mister Wes.
"Y'all, this is a bad business. Death always is. A man in his prime is gone. And a sickly young widow has eight young'uns at her knees and another on her lap. Their prospects are mighty bleak. Her kinfolks will have to take them in, I reckon. But it appears that Ward's was a case where a man brought death on himself, one way or another. And I honestly doubt if an inquest would do him or anybody else any good."
"We just won't hold none then. I'm gonna go down the lane and look 'round one more time so's I can figger just where Ward was tryin' to climb over the fence when his gun went off. It's a pity the rain washed out his tracks. All a-body can see is where we've been trompin' this mornin' and all them holes Uncle Hiram punched in the ground with his peg leg."
Every one of the men, except Papa and Doctor Elton, followed Mister Wes down toward the horse lot. Some of them stopped at the wagon shelter to look at Mister Ward's automobile again. The others went on down the lane.
"I've got to get on back," the doctor was saying. "There's plenty of sickness this time of year, and folks will be calling for me. In winter I'm a popular man, you know. An old, tired, popular man! Ah, Jodie, I got called out at midnight last night, and I haven't seen my pillow since."
They stopped at the yard gate. As the doctor unhooked the latch he turned and looked straight at Papa.
"Jodie, I just hope the Good Lord will forgive me for times when I meddle in His affairs."
"You don't meddle."
"Sometimes, it's not what you do, Jodie. It's the way you say a thing, or don't, that changes matters. I'm telling you, this whole business worries me."
"It's enough to turn anybody's hair."
"Me and you might have made a mistake—mainly me. Maybe we should've reported Ward's whiskey still before we did. Maybe he wouldn't be dead today, if we had. Maybe it's a blessing he is dead. I don't know. When I think of that stillborn baby, I— Damn my tongue! Jodie, forget I mentioned a baby! My tongue slipped! I gave my word not to—"
"I already knew about the baby—Nannie and me. And we're not aiming to talk it. 'Twouldn't help Wes's daughter, nor nobody."
"That's the truth! Jodie, I don't know how you look at it, but as I see it, it's best now to let Ward's folks bury him and not stir up a ruckus over the technicalities of just how he died. Far as I'm concerned, it don't make a continental how the gun went off. It's not the how of death that's of any consequence. It's death. If there was ever anything any 'count in Ward Lawson—and there must've been at some time; nobody's worthless all their livelong life—it died a good while back. When, I don't know. But it wasn't Sunday at sundown when that lead ripped through his jugular vein!"
Papa and the doctor walked on through the gate into the grove of trees in front of Miss Ophelia's house, where the dozen or more buggies and wagons and saddle horses were waiting. But Doctor Elton wasn't bobbing and bouncing along the way he usually walked. He was dragging his feet, and when he got to the side of his big black buggy, he had to catch one hand on the dashboard and the other on the armrest so he could pull himself up to the seat.
Papa tugged at the bridle bit of one mare just enough to make her start backing the buggy a few feet. The doctor gave both mares a light touch with the whip, and they struck up a smooth trot. Turning halfway round, Doctor Elton lifted his hand to Papa.
When I saw Papa was going toward the barn instead of coming back to the porch, I scooted down the bare, windy hall to the kitchen.
More and more folks, most of them strangers, kept coming to the Lawson house. And it seemed that everything was going wrong and nobody knew what to do. I didn't know what to do either. Mama said for me just to be sweet and stay out of the way.
Uncle Dan brought Miss Ophelia's children home. But the girls didn't want to play with me. They just stood around, looking at the houseful of people. The middle girl, Sissie, never would take her thumb out of her mouth—not even long enough to tell me her real name. Eftie, the biggest one, couldn't play because she had to tend to her baby sister.
The boy named Philip wouldn't play with me either. He had a bad earache. He had been crying with it when they all came home from the schoolhouse, and he kept on crying, even after Mama heated up a skillet of salt and fixed a poultice sack for him to hold against his ear. Finally, when Aunt Vic warmed some milk for him to drink, he began to feel better.
While Aunt Vic was making biscuits, Mama and Miss Lida Belle were trying to decide what would be the best thing to do for Miss Dink.
"It's dreadful cold in that far side room," Miss Lida Belle told Mama. "Let's move her 'cross the hall to the fireplace room."
Mama sent me out to the woodpile to get Papa. He came, and together they rolled Miss Dink up in a blanket, and Papa toted her across the hall. When Papa laid Miss Dink on the freshly made bed, she sank down into the feather mattress so far I could hardly see her wrinkled face. Something had made her cheeks turn a strange yellowish color. And she wasn't laughing like she had been that day she told me and Mama how a long time ago she smeared hog lard on Miss Ophelia's seven-year itch.
"Nannie," Papa whispered as he started out, "soon's you get time, ask what clothes Ophelia wants us to use."
As soon as Mama went over to Miss Ophelia's chair and began talking to her, she started crying again.
"Them things in the big trunk is all. They're all he's got, Miss Nannie."
I didn't know what trunk or what things she was talking about till a few minutes later when I followed Mama and Miss Lida Belle into the far side room. There we found two trunks over against the back wall, one flat on top, the other humpbacked—both dusty. Mama lifted the lid of the humpbacked one.
"It smells terrible, Mama! Just like Grandma Ming's big old trunk! That one with all them little white balls in it."
"'Course, hon. All trunks have to have camphor balls in them, else the moths will get in."
There wasn't a thing in the tray of the trunk except a handful of dry, shriveled-up roses. Down in the bottom, though, we saw a long white dress with lots of lace on it and a man's dark Sunday suit.
Miss Lida Belle caught her breath. "Nannie! It's their wedding clothes! Is there a white shirt?"
"I'm afraid not."
"This other trunk is slam empty, Nannie."
Mama pulled out a wrinkled black coat and a pair of pants and handed them to Miss Lida Belle. Then she laid the wedding dress and the dead roses back in place.
"Move your fingers, Bandershanks. This heavy lid could cut them off."
"Well, Wes's got two white shirts. I'll just go get one o' them. He'll never miss it, but don't say nothin', Nannie."
"You want Jodie to take you home in the buggy?"
"Naw, naw. I'll cut through the woods. It's not more'n a quarter of a mile."
While Miss Lida Belle was gone, Mama set Miss Ophelia's ironing board up on the backs of two straight chairs and put two flatirons on the kitchen stove to heat. But she couldn't find Miss Ophelia's cake of beeswax.
Aunt Vic knew what to do. She just stepped out in the back yard and broke off a few little sprigs from a cedar tree.
"Cedar's just as good as wax when it comes to making your iron smooth," she told me as she was stacking the prickly green needles on the end of the ironing board.
Mama had the wrinkles pressed out of the suit by the time Miss Lida Belle got back with Mister Wes's white shirt and a celluloid collar that went with it.
"Lemme run the iron over these cuffs, Nannie. Looks like the last time I ironed this shirt, I must've just give it a lick and a promise. Here, I thought I'd better bring this too."
Miss Lida Belle handed Mama a narrow string of a black tie. Mama handed it to me.
"You can tote the tie, Bandershanks."
We took the tie and the suit and the shirt and stiff collar up to the door of the front room and handed them to Papa. Mama didn't say so, but I knew Papa and Uncle Dan were going to dress up Mister Ward.
I knew why: you have to get dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meeting things when you die and go to Heaven. God's up there, and it wouldn't be very nice to go to see God with just weekday clothes on.
Up in the middle of the day, Mama and the other women put dinner on the kitchen table. Some of the folks who had been there all morning ate; some didn't.
Mama couldn't get Miss Ophelia to eat anything. Not till Mama said, "Now, Ophelia, you'll just have to eat a little something to keep your strength up," would she even sip any black coffee. She nibbled at a piece of pound cake.
Aunt Lovie had brought the cake, and it was good. Aunt Vic let me have two slices of it to keep up my strength.
Another wagonload of people came right after dinner. Papa went out to the well lot to meet them, and so did I. They were wrapped in heavy cloaks and had warm bricks and blankets at their feet, but their faces were red, and they looked cold.
The man holding the reins said, "Whew, Mister Jodie, we finally made it, but I don't know if I'll ever thaw out or not!"
"It's the worst cold spell we've had, all right. Y'all just go on in. I'll hitch your team, and all."
As soon as the people got in the house, they went straight into the front room. The women all looked at Mister Ward and cried. The men bit their lips together tight and didn't make a sound.
I wanted to go home.
I went back outside, looking for Papa. When I couldn't find him, I ran into the kitchen, where Mama and Aunt Vic were getting food warmed up for the kinfolks who had just come. Aunt Vic said that they lived far away and were bound to be tired and hungry.
"Mama, I wanta go home."
"We'll be going now in just a little while."
The sun was down to the pickets of Miss Ophelia's garden fence when we finally did put on our cloaks to leave. Papa got some boy with Mister Goode to ride Jake home so he could go with Mama and me in the buggy. Aunt Vic followed us to the door.
"Vic, me and Jodie will be back over here around midnight to sit up till day. Then you and Lovie and Dan and some of the others can get some rest."
"I won't mind staying up all night, Nannie. Somebody's got to keep coffee boiled."
"I know, but there's no need for so many to sit up. And the way things have turned out, we may be here helping most of the day tomorrow. Jodie said the carpenter Ward's folks got to make the coffin can't send it till way up in the morning."
On the way home Papa and Mama talked of all the folks who had come to the Lawson house and of what was said and what was left unsaid. Mama thought it was a shame none of Ward's folks had sent for the preacher. Papa thought it was too late for a preacher to help matters.
Papa wanted to know if Miss Lida Belle had mentioned Addle Mae. Mama said that woman didn't part her lips about the girl all day long.
Then Mama told Papa where Miss Lida Belle got the white shirt. And Papa told Mama about the red fox squirrel the doctor found in Ward's pocket.
"Poor little squirrel!"
"What makes you say that, Bandershanks?"
"Mama, they threw him to the dogs! And he was so soft and warm. He was a pretty thing! Wasn't he pretty, Papa?"
"So soft and warm?"
"Yes, sir."
"Great Jehoshaphat and gully dirt!Yeah, he was pretty! But I didn't know he was still warm! My Lord! Nannie, do you realize what that means?"
"I sure do! If he wasn't cold yet, somebody stuffed that squirrel into Ward's coat pocket this morning!"
"Exactly!"
"What's the matter, Papa?"
"Nothing, Bandershanks. We probably won't ever know all the truth about that fox squirrel, or about the so-called coon Ward wanted to kill."
I leaned over to put my head in Mama's lap. She told me that I could just go to sleep and she'd wake me when we got home. So I shut my eyes tight. Dale's feet kept clumping. The wheels kept grinding.
"Poor little gal. What a day for her. Look, Nannie, she's already sound asleep."
But I wasn't. So, I shut my eyes tighter.
"Jodie, what do you aim to do?"
"It's too late now to do anything this evening, Nannie. Besides, I don't know that we ought'a try. If you stop to think about it, you couldn't prove who put the squirrel in his pocket. I reckon the doctor saw that. I'm trying to remember just what all he said. Him and Bandershanks was the only ones who touched that red fox squirrel. I know he must've noticed it was still warm."
"Do you figure it was Wes, or who?"
"I just don't hardly know what to think, Nannie. When I recollect and piece together what Doanie told you, and what Ophelia told Wes, and what Doctor Elton told me, it all seems clear enough. Either Wes or Ned killed him, I reckon. Still, Ward could've shot himself."
"Yeah, he could have."
"And any one of several persons, who did or didn't know what all had happened, might've slipped the squirrel into Ward's pocket to cover suspicious-looking circumstances. It might've even been that Hicks fellow who was in on the whiskey-making. Remember, he was over there early this morning."
"Jodie, it's bound to have been Wes Bailey."
"Well, maybe. Ward ruined Addle Mae. But, Nannie, had you thought of this: Wes couldn't afford to kill Ward. If he did, folks would ask why, and that would bring up Addie Mae's name. So Wes didn't dare."
"You guess then it was Ned?"
"I wouldn't think it of Ned. But Ward must've thought Ned had told the Law about the still. You remember Ophelia said that Ward was going to 'get him a coon'? Thecoonwas Ned!"
"Jodie, oughtn't we to tell somebody about—"
"Nannie, for the time being, I aim to put the whole mess outta my mind. Sometimes, what happens is best left to the Good Lord. He can handle justice for all kinds of creatures: black coons, red squirrels, white men, black men—any kind, any color. Your pa used to preach that."
"Yeah. Pa got it outta the Bible. It says He takes note when a sparrow falls."