Bottoms [158-011-2.0]

By: Joe Lansdale

Synopsis:

never before beheld.  Welcome to Joe Lansdale country.

Today, the Sabine River runs as before, yet the bottoms have been
drained. Long gone are the alligators, and the few birds that take to
the air cast tiny shadows over concrete surfaces. But way back then,
during the thick of the Great Depression that squeezed Deep East Texas
in its impoverishing grip, a boy could hear the crickets and the frogs
in the star-studded southern night.  And in this primordial time a
killer stalked the land. When young Harry Crane discovers the black
woman's body, mutilated and bound to a tree with barbed wire, he
unwittingly unleashes a storm of uncontrolled fear, thinly buried
racial animosities, and fearsomely escalating violence.  Jacob Crane,
Harry's father and the town constable, struggles valiantly to see that
proper justice gets done.


A considerably different version of this story first appeared in 1999,
edited by AI Sarrantonio (Avon Books, 1999).

Copyright 2000 by Joe R. Lansdale All rights reserved.  No part of this
book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.

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The Mysterious Press name and logo are registered trademarks of Warner
Books, Inc.

Printed in the United States of America

First printing: September 2000

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Landsdale, Joe R. The bottoms / by Joe R. Lansdale.

p. em.

ISBN 0892967048

1. Serial murders--Fiction.  2. Race relations--Fiction.  3.
Depressions--Fiction.  4. Texas, East--Fiction.  5. Boys--Fiction.  I.
Title.

PS3562.A557 B68 2000

813'.54--dc21

This is dedicated to the loving memory of my mother and father, A.B.
(Bud) Lansdale and O'Reta Lansdale.  They weathered the Great
Depression, recessions, plain old hard work, and difficult times
without complaint.  I wish there were more like them.

PROLOGUE

nEWS didn't travel the way it does now.  Not back then.  Not by radio
or newspaper it didn't.  Not in East Texas.  Things were different. 
What happened in another county was often left to that county. World
news was of importance to us all, but we didn't have to know about
terrible things that didn't affect us in Bilgewater, Oregon, or even
across the state in El Paso, or up northern state way in godforsaken
Amarillo. All it takes now for us to know all the gory details about
some murder is for it to be horrible, or it to be a slow news week, and
it's everywhere, even if it's some grocery clerk murder in Maine that
hasn't a thing to do with us. Back in the thirties a killing might
occur several counties over and you might never know about it unless
you were related, because as I said, news traveled slower then, and law
enforcement tried to take care of their own. On the other hand, there
were times it might have been better had news traveled faster, or
traveled at all.  Then again, maybe it wouldn't have made one whit of
difference.  What's done is done though, and even now in my eighties,
as I lie here in the old folks home, my room full of the smell of my
own decaying body, awaitinga meal of whatever, mashed and diced and
tasteless, a tube in my shank, the television tuned to some talk show
peopled by idiots, I've got the memories of then, nearly seventy years
ago, and they are as fresh as the moment.

It all happened, as I recall, in the years nineteen thirty-three and
thirty-four.

Part One ,

suppose there back then had but were some money,

we weren't among them.  The Depression was on.  And if we had been one
of those with money, there really wasn't that much to buy, outside of
hogs, chickens, vegetables, and the staples, and since we raised the
first three, with us it was the staples, and sometimes we bartered for
them.

Daddy farmed some, and where we lived wasn't so bad for growing things.
The wind had blown away most of North and West Texas, along with
Oklahoma, but the eastern part of Texas was lush with greenery and the
soil was rich and there was enough rain so that things grew quick and
hardy.

Even during dry periods the soil tended to hold some moisture, and if
a crop wasn't as good as it might be, it could still turn out.  In
fact, when the rest of Texas was tired out and gone to dust, East Texas
would sometimes be subject to terrific rainstorms and even floods.  We
were more likely to lose a crop to dampness than to dryness.

Daddy had a barbershop as well, and he ran it most days except Sunday
and Monday, and was a community constable

 because nobody else wanted the job.  For a time he had been justice
of the peace as well, but he finally decided it was more than he
wanted, and Jim Jack Formosa took on the justice of the peace position,
and Daddy always said Jim Jack was a damn sight better at marryingand
declaring people stone cold dead than he ever was.

We lived back in the deep woods near the Sabine River in a three-room
white house Daddy had built before we were born.  We had a leak in the
roof, no electricity, a smoky wood stove, a rickety barn, a sleeping
porch with a patched screen, and an outhouse prone to snakes.

We used kerosene lamps, hauled water from the well, and did a lot of
hunting and fishing to add to the larder.  We had about four acres cut
out of the woods, and owned another twenty-five acres of hard timber
and pine.  We farmed the cleared four acres of sandy land with a mule
named Sally Redback.  We had a car, but Daddy used it mostly for his
constable business and Sunday church.  The rest of the time we walked,
or me and my sister rode Sally Redback.

The woods we owned, and the hundreds of acres of it that surrounded our
land, was full of game, chiggers, and ticks. Back then in East Texas,
all the big woods hadn't been timbered out and we didn't have a real
advanced Forestry Department telling us how the forest needed help to
survive.  We just sort of figured since it had survived centuries
without us it could probably figure things out on its own.  And the
woods didn't all belong to somebody back then, though of course timber
was a big industry and was growing even bigger. But there were still
mighty trees and lost places in the woods and along the cool shaded
riverbanks that no one had touched but animals.

Wild hogs, squirrels, rabbits, coons, possums, some armadillo, and all
manner of birds and plenty of snakes were out there.  Sometimes you
could see water moccasins swim ruing in a school down the river, their
evil heads bobbing up like knobs on logs.  And woe unto the fella fell
in amongst them, and bless the heart of the fool who believed if he
swam down under them he'd be safe because a moccasin couldn't bite
underwater.  They not only could, but would.

Deer roamed the woods too.  Maybe fewer than now, as people grow them
like crops these days and harvest them on a three-day drunk during
season from a deer stand with a highpowered rifle.  Deer they've
corn-fed and trained to be like pets so they can get a cheap free shot
and feel like they've done some serious hunting.  It costs them more to
shoot the deer, ride its corpse around in a pickup, and mount its head
than it would cost to go to the store and buy an equal amount of
beefsteak.  Then there's those who like to smear their faces with the
blood after the kill and take photos, as if this makes them some kind
of warrior.  You'd think the damn deer were armed and dangerous.

But I've quit talking, and gone to preaching.  I was saying how we
lived.  And I was sayingabout all the game.  Then too, there was the
Goat Man.  Half goat, half man, he liked to hang around what was called
the Swinging Bridge.  Up until the time I'm telling you about I had
never seen him, but some times at night, out possum hunting, I thought
maybe I heard him, howlingand whimpering down there near the cable
bridge that hung bold over the river, swinging with the wind in the
moonlight, the beams playing on the metal cables like fairies on
ropes.

He was supposed to steal animals and children, and though I didn't know
of any children that had been eaten, some farmers claimed the Goat Man
had taken their livestock, and there were kids I knew claimed they had
cousins taken off by the Goat Man, never to be seen again.

It was said he didn't go as far as the main road because Baptist
preachers traveled regular there on foot and by car,

 Joe R. Laisdale making the rounds, and therefore making the road
holy.  We called it the Preacher's Road.

It was said the Goat Man didn't get out of the woods that made up the
Sabine bottoms.  High land was something he couldn't tolerate.  He
needed the damp, thick leaf mush be neath his feet, which were
hooves.

Dad said there wasn't any Goat Man.  That it was a wives' tale heard
throughout the South.  He said what I heard out there was water and
animal sounds, but I tell you, those sounds made your skin crawl, and
they did remind you of a hurt goat. Mr.  Cecil Chambers, who worked
with my Daddy at the barbershop said it was probably a panther.  They
showed up now and then in the deep woods, and they could scream like a
woman, he said.

Me and my sister, Tom--well, Thomasina, but we all called her Tom
'cause it was easier to remember and because she was a tomboy--roamed
those woods from daylight to dark. That wasn't unusual for kids back
then.  The woods were darn near a second home to us.

We had a dog named Toby that was part hound, part terrier, and part
what we called feist.  Toby was a hunting sonofagun.  But the summer of
nineteen thirty-three, while rearing up against a tree so he could bark
at a squirrel he'd tracked, the oak he was under lost a rotten limb and
it fell on him, striking him so hard he couldn't move his back legs or
tail. I carried him home in my arms.  Him whimpering, me and Tom
crying.

Daddy was out in the field plowing with Sally Redback, working the plow
around a stump that was still in the field. Now and then he chopped at
its base with an axe and set fire to it, but it was stubborn and
remained.

Daddy stopped his plowing when he saw us, took the looped lines off his
shoulders and dropped them, left Sally Redback standing in the field
hitched up to the plow.  He

carried Toby out to him and put him on the soft plowed ground and Daddy
looked him over.

Unlike most farmers, Daddy never wore overalls.  He al ways wore khaki
pants, work shirts, work shoes, and a brown felt hat.  His idea of
dressing up was a clean white shirt with a thin black tie and the rest
of him decked out in khakis and work shoes and a less battered hat.

This day he took off his sweat-ringed hat, squatted down, and put the
hat on his knee.  He had dark brown hair and in the sunlight you could
see it was touched with streaks of gray. He had a slightly long face
and light green eyes that, though soft, seemed to look right through
you.

Daddy moved Toby's paws around, tried to straighten his back, but Toby
whined hard when he did that.

After a while, as if considering all possibilities, he told me and Tom
to get the gun and take poor Toby out in the woods and put him out of
his misery.

"It ain't what I want you to do,".  Daddy said.  "But it's the thing
has to be done."

"Yes sir," I said, but the words crawled out of my throat as if their
backs, like Toby's, were broken.

These days that might sound rough, but back then we didn't have many
vets, and no money to take a dog to one if we wanted to.  And all a vet
would have done was do what we were gonna do.

Another thing different then was you learned about things like dying
when you were quite young.  It couldn't be helped. You raised and
killed chickens and hogs, hunted and fished, so you were constantly up
against it.  That being the case, I think we respected life more than
some do now, and useless suffering was not to be tolerated.

In the case of something like Toby, you were expected to do the deed
yourself, not pass on the responsibility.  It was

Joe g, I.ansdale unspoken, but it was well understood that Toby was our
dog" and therefore our responsibility.  And when it got right down to
it, as the oldest, it was my direct responsibility, not Tom's.

I thought of appealing to Mama, who was out at the hen house gathering
evening eggs, but I knew it wouldn't do any good.  She'd see things
same as Daddy.

Me and Tom cried awhile, then got a wheelbarrow and put Toby in it.  I
already had my twenty-two for squirrels, but for this I went in the
house and swapped it for the single shot sixteen-gauge shotgun so there
wouldn't be any suffering  Kids back then grew up on guns and were
taught to respect and use them in the manner they were meant.  They
were as much a part of life as a hoe, a plow, and a butter chum.

Our responsibility or not, I was nearly twelve and Tom was only nine. 
The thought of shooting Toby in the back of the head like that,
blasting his skull all over creation, was not something I looked
forward to.  I told Tom to stay at the house, but she wouldn't.  She
said she'd come on with me.  She knew I needed someone to help me be
strong.  I didn't try hard to discourage her.

Tom got the shovel to bury Toby, put it over her shoulder, and we
wheeled old Toby along, him whiningand such, but after a bit he quit
making noise.  He just lay in the wheel barrow while we pushed him down
the trail, his back slightly twisted, his head raised, sniffing the
air.

In a short time he started sniffing deeper, and we could tell he had a
squirrel's scent.  Toby always had a way of turning to look at you
when he had a squirrel, then he'd point his head in the direction he
wanted to go and take off runningand yapping in that deep voice of
his.  Daddy said that was his way of letting us know the direction of
the scent be fore he got out of sight.  Well, he had his head turned
like that, and I knew what it was I was supposed to do, but I decided
to prolong it by giving Toby his head.

We pushed in the direction he wanted to go, and pretty soon we were
racing over a narrow trail littered with pine needles.  Toby was
barking like crazy.  Eventually we ran the wheelbarrow up against a
hickory tree.

Up there in the high branches two big fat squirrels played around as if
taunting us.  I shot both of them and tossed them in the wheelbarrow
with Toby, and darned if he didn't signal and start barkingagain.

It was rough pushing that wheelbarrow over that bumpy ground, but we
did it, forgettingall about what we were supposed to do for Toby.

By the time Toby quit hitting on squirrel scent, it was near nightfall
and we were down deep in the woods with six squirrels--a bumper
crop--and we were tuckered out.

There Toby was, a cripple, and I'd never seen him work the trees
better.  It was like Toby knew what was coming and was trying to extend
things by treeing squirrels.

We sat down under a big old sweet gum and left Toby in the wheelbarrow
with the squirrels.  The sun was falling through the trees like a big
fat plum coming to pieces.  Shadows were rising up like dark men all
around us.  We didn't have a hunting lamp.  There was just the moon,
and it wasn't up good yet.

"Harry," Tom said.  "What about Toby?"

"He don't seem to be in pain none," I said.  "And he treed six
squirrels."

"Yeah," Tom said, "but his back's still broke." "Reckon so," I said.

"Maybe we could hide him down here, come every day, feed and water
him."

"I don't think so.  He'd be at the mercy anything came along.  Darn
chiggers and ticks would eat him alive."  I'd thought of that because I
could feel bites all over me and knew tonight I'd be spending some time
with a lamp and tweezers,

getting them off all kinds of places, bathing myself in kerosene, then
rinsing.  During the summer me and Tom ended up doing that near every
evening.  In fact, ticks were so thick they gathered on weed tops
awaiting prey in such piles they bent the weed stalks over.  Biting
blackflies were thick in the woods, especially as you neared the river,
and the chiggers were plentiful and hungry.  Sometimes, late in the
afternoon, the mosquitoes rose up in such a gathering they looked like
a black cloud growing up from the bottoms.

To ward off the ticks and chiggers we tied kerosene-soaked rags around
our ankles, but I can't say it worked much, other than keeping the bugs
off the rags themselves.  The ticks and chiggers found their way onto
your clothingand body, and by nightfall they had nested snugly into
some of the more personal areas of your person, sucking blood, raising
up red welts.

"It's getting' dark," Tom said.

"I know."

I looked at Toby.  There was mostly just a lump to see, lying there in
the wheelbarrow covered by the dark.  While I was looking he raised his
head and his tail beat on the wooden bottom of the wheelbarrow a couple
of times.

"Don't think I can do it," I said.  "I think we ought to take him back
to Daddy, show how he's improved.  He may have a broke back, but he can
move his head and even his tail now,

so his whole body ain't dead.  He don't need kinin'."

"Daddy may not see it that way, though."

"Reckon not, but I can't just shoot him without trying to give him a
chance.  Heck, he treed six squirrels.  Mama'll be glad to see them
squirrels.  We'll just take him back."

We got up to go.  It was then that it settled on us.  We were lost.  We
had been so busy chasing those squirrels, following Toby's lead, we had
gotten down deep in the woods and we didn't recognize anything.  We
weren't scared, of course, least not right away.  We roamed these woods
all the time, but it had grown dark, and this immediate place wasn't
familiar.

The moon was up some more, and I used that for my bearings. "We need to
go that way," I said.  "Eventually that'll lead back to the house, or
the road."

We set out, pushing the wheelbarrow, stumbling over roots and ruts and
fallen limbs, banging up against trees with the wheelbarrow and
ourselves.  Near us we could hear wildlife moving around, and I thought
about what Cecil had said about panthers, and I thought about wild hogs
and wondered if we might come up on one rootin' for acorns, and I
remembered that Cecil had also said this was a bad year for the
hydrophobia, and lots of animals were coming down with it, and the
thought of all that made me nervous enough to feel around in my pocket
for shotgun shells.  I had three left.

As we went along, there was more movement in the thicket next to us,
and after a while I realized whatever it was it was keeping stride with
us.  When we slowed, it slowed.  We sped up, it sped up.  And not the
way an animal will do, or even the way a coach whip snake will
sometimes follow and run you.  This was something bigger than a snake. 
It was stalking us, like a panther.  Or a man.

Toby was growlingas we went along, his head lifted, the hair on the
back of his neck raised.

I looked over at Tom, and the moon was just able to split through the
trees and show me her face and how scared she was.

I wanted to say something, shout out at whatever it was in the bushes,
but I was afraid that might be like some kind of bugle call that set it
off, causing it to come down on us.

I had broken open the shotgun earlier for safety sake, laid it in the
wheelbarrow and was pushing it, Toby, the shovel, and the squirrels
along.  Now I stopped, got the shotgun out,

Joe g. I.ansdale made sure a shell was in it, snapped it shut and put. 
my thumb on the hammer.

Toby had really started to make noise, had gone from growling to
barking.

I looked at Tom, and she took hold of the wheelbarrow and started
pushing.  I could tell she was having trouble with it, working it over
the soft ground, but I didn't have any choice but to hold on to the
gun, and we couldn't leave Toby behind, not after what he'd been
through.

Whatever was in those bushes paced us for a while, barely cracked the
leaves it stepped on, then went silent.  We picked up speed, and didn't
hear it anymore.  And we didn't feel its presence either.

I finally got brave enough to break open the shotgun and lay it in the
wheelbarrow and take over the pushingagain. "What was that?"  Tom
asked. "I don't know," I said. "It sounded big." "Yeah."

"The Goat Man?"

"Daddy says there ain't any Goat Man." "Yeah, but he's sometimes wrong,
ain't he?" "Hardly ever," I said.

We went along some more, found a narrow place in the river, crossed,
struggling with the wheelbarrow.  We shouldn't have crossed, but here
was a good spot to do it, and I was spooked and wanted to put some
space between us and it.

We walked along a good distance, and eventually came up against a wad
of brambles that twisted in amongst the trees and scrubs and vines and
made a wall of thorns.  It was a wall of wild rosebushes.  Some of the
vines on them were thick as well ropes, the thorns like nails, and the
flowers smelled strong and sweet in the night wind, almost sweet as
sorghum syrup cooking.

The bramble patch ran some distance in either direction, and encased us
on all sides.  We had wandered into a maze of thorns too wide and thick
to go around, too high and sharp to climb over; they had wound together
with low-hanging limbs, making a thorny ceilingabove.

I thought of Brer Rabbit and the briar patch, but unlike Brer Rabbit, I
had not been born and raised in a briar patch and it wasn't what I
wanted.

I dug in my pocket, got a match I had left over from when me and Tom
tried to smoke some corn silk cigarettes and grape vines, struck the
match with my thumb and waved it around, saw a wide path had been cut
into the brambles.

I bent down, poked the match forward.  I could see the brambles were a
kind of tunnel, about six feet high and six feet wide.  I couldn't tell
how far it went, but it was a good distance.

I shook the match out before it burned my hand, said to Tom, "We can go
back, or we can take this tunnel."

Tom studied the brambles.  "I don't want to go back be cause of that
thing.  And I don't want to go down that tunnel neither.  We'd be like
rats in a pipe.  Maybe whatever it is knew it'd get us boxed in like
this, and it's just waitin' at the other end, like that thing Daddy
read to us about.  The thing that was part man, part cow."

"Part bull, part man," I said.  "The Minotaur."

"Yeah.  It could be waitin' on us, Harry."

I had, of course, thought about that.  "I think we ought to take the
tunnel, it can't come from any side on us that way. It has to come from
front or rear."

"Can't there be other tunnels in there?"

That I hadn't considered.  There could be openings cut any where.  And
if it grew tight in there, all a person, animal, Minotaur had to do,
was reach out and grab me or Tom.

"I got the gun," I said.  "If you can push the wheel bar

Jee g. Lansdale row, Toby can sort of watch for us, let us know
something's coming.  Anything jumps out at us, I'll cut it in two."

I picked up the gun and made it ready.  Tom took hold of the
wheelbarrow handles, wiggled it through the split in the briars, and me
and her went on in.

he smell of roses was thick and overwhelming.  It made me sick.  The
thorns sometimes stuck out on vines you couldn't see in the dark.  They
snagged my old shirt and cut my arms and face.  I could hear Tom back
there behind me, cussing softly under her breath as she got
scratched.

The bramble tunnel went on for a good ways, then I heard a rushing
sound, and the tunnel widened and we came out on the bank of the
roaring Sabine River.  There were splits in the trees above and the
moonlight came through strong and fell over everything like milk that
had thickened, yellowed, and turned sour.

Whatever had been pacing us seemed to be good and gone. I studied the
moon, thought about the river.  I said, "We've gone some out of the
way.  But I can see how we ought to go. We can follow the river a bit,
which ain't the right direction, but I think it's not far from here to
the Swinging Bridge.  We cross that, we can hit the main road, walk to
the house." "The Swinging Bridge?" "Yeah," I said.

Jie R. lansdalo

"Think Mama and Daddy are worried?"  Tom asked.

"Yeah," I said.  "Bet they are.  I hope they'll be as glad to see these
squirrels as I think they'll be."

"What about Toby?"

"We just got to wait and see."

The bank sloped, and there was a little trail ran along the edge of the
river.

"Figure we got to carry Toby, then bring the wheelbarrow. You can push
it forward, and I'll get in front and boost it down."

I carefully picked up Toby, who whimpered softly, and Tom, getting
ahead of herself, pushed the wheelbarrow.  It, the squirrels, shotgun,
and shovel went over the edge, tipped over near the creek.

"Damnit, Tom," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said.  "It got away from me.  I'm gonna tell Mama you
cussed."

"You do, and I'll whup thetar out of you.  "Sides, I heard you cussin'
plenty."

I gave Toby to Tom till I could get a footingand have him passed to
me.

I slid down the bank, came up against a huge oak growing near the
water.  The brambles had grown down the bank and were wrapped around
the tree.  I put my hand against it to steady myself, jerked back
quick.  What I had touched hadn't been a tree trunk, or even a thorn. 
It was something soft.

When I looked I saw a gray mess hung up in brambles.  The moonlight was
shiningacross the water and falling on a face, or what had been a
face, but was more like a jack-o'-lantern now, swollen and round with
dark sockets for eyes.  There was a wad of hair on its head, like a
chunk of dark lamb's wool, and the body was swollen and twisted and
without clothes.  A woman.

I had seen a couple of cards with naked women on them that George
Sterning had shown me.  He was always coming up with stuff like that
'cause his Daddy was a traveling salesman and sold not only Garrett
snuff, but what was called novelties on the side.

But this wasn't like that.  Those pictures had stirred me in a way I
didn't understand but found somehow sweet and satisfying  This was
stirring me in a way I understood immediately.

Her breasts were split like rotten melons cracked in the sun. On closer
examination I realized the brambles weren't brambles at all, but
strands of barbed wire tightly wrapped around her swollen gray flesh.

"Jesus," I said.

"You're cussin' again," Tom said.

I climbed up the bank a bit, took Toby from Tom, laid him on the soft
ground by the riverbank, stared some more at the body.  Tom slid down,
saw what I saw. "Is it the Goat Man?"  she asked. "No," I said.  "It's
a dead woman." "She ain't got no clothes on."

"No, she ain't.  Don't look at her, Tom."

"I can't help it."

"We got to get home and tell Daddy."

"Light a match, Harry.  Let's get a good look."

I considered on that, finally dug in my pocket.  "I just got one
left."

"Use it."

I struck the match with my thumb and held it out.  The match wavered as
my hand shook.  I got up as close as I could stand to get, due to the
smell.

It was even more horrible by match light

"I think it's a colored woman," I said.

The match went out.  I righted the wheelbarrow, shook mud out of the
end of the shotgun, put it, the squirrels, and Toby back in the
wheelbarrow.  I couldn't find the shovel, figured it

Jae g. Lansdale had slid on down into the river and was gone.  That was
going to cost me.

"We got to get on," I said.

Tom was standing on the bank, staring at the body.  She couldn't take
her eyes off of it.

"Come on!"

I pulled her away.  We went along the bank, me pushing the wheelbarrow
for all I was worth, it bogging in the soft dirt until I couldn't push
it anymore.  I bound the squirrels' legs together with some string Tom
had, and tied them around my waist.

"You carry the shotgun, Tom, and I'll carry Toby."

Tom took the gun.  I picked Toby up.  We started toward the Swinging
Bridge, which was where the Goat Man was supposed to live.

Me and my friends normally stayed away from the Swinging Bridge, all
except George.  George wasn't scared of anything. Then again, George
wasn't smart enough to be scared of much.

The bridge was some cables strung across the Sabine from high spots on
the banks.  Some long board slats were fastened to the cables by rusty
metal clamps and rotting ropes.  I didn't know who built it or how old
it was.  Maybe it had been a pretty good bridge once.  Now a lot of
slats were missing and others were rotten and cracked and the cables
were fastened to the high banks on either side by rusty metal bars
buffed deep in the ground.  In places, where the water had washed the
bank, you could see part of the bars showing through the dirt.  Enough
time and water, the whole bridge would fall into the river.

When the wind blew, the bridge swung.  In a high wind it was something.
I had crossed it only once before, during the day, the wind dead calm,
and that had been scary enough.  Every time you stepped, it moved,
threatened to dump you.  The boards creaked and ached as if in pain. 
Little bits of rotten wood came loose and fell into the river below. 
Down there was a deep spot and the water ran fast, crashed up against
some rocks, fell over a little falls, and into wide, deep, churning
water.

Now, here we were at night, looking down the length of the bridge,
thinking about the Goat Man, the body we'd found,

Toby, it being late, and our parents worried.

"We gotta cross, Harry?"  Tom asked.

"Yeah," I said.  "I'm gonna lead, and you watch where I step.  The
boards hold me, they're liable to hold you."

The bridge creaked above the roar of the river, swaying ever so
slightly on its cables, like a snake sliding through tall grass.

It had been bad enough trying to cross when I could put both hands on
the cables, but carrying Toby, and it being night, and Tom with me, and
her trying to carry the shotgun... Well, it didn't look promising.

The other choice was to go back the way we had come.  Or try another
path down where the river went shallow, cross over there, walk back to
the road and our house.  But the river didn't shallow until a good
distance away, and the woods were rough, and it was dark, and Toby was
heavy, and there was something out there that had been tracking us.  I
didn't see any other way but the bridge.

I took a deep breath, got a good hold on Toby, stepped out on the first
slat.

When I did, the bridge swung hard to the left, then back even more
violently.  I had Toby in my arms, so the only thing I could do was
bend my legs and try to ride the swing.  It took a long time for the
bridge to quit swinging.  I took the next step even more gingerly.  It
didn't swingas much this time.  I had gotten a kind of rhythm to my
stepping.

I called back to Tom.  "You got to step in the middle of them slats. 
That way it don't swing so much."

"I'm scared, Harry."

"It's all right," I said.  "We'll do fine."

I stepped on a slat, and it cracked and I pulled my foot back. Part of
the board had broken loose and was falling into the river below.  It
hit with a splash, flickered in the moonlight, whirled in the brown
water, went over the little falls, and was gone.

I stood there feeling as if the bottom of my belly had fallen out.  I
hugged Toby tight, took a wide step over the missing slat toward the
next one.  I made it, but the bridge shook and I heard Tom scream.

I glanced over my shoulder as she dropped the shotgun and grabbed at
the cable.  The shotgun fell a long ways and hung between the two lower
cables.  The bridge swung violently, threw me against one of the
cables, then to the other side.  I thought I was a goner for sure.

When the bridge slowed, I lowered to one knee on the slat,

pivoted, and looked at Tom.  "Easy," I said. "I'm too scared to let
go," Tom said. "You got to, and you got to get the gun."

It was a long time before Tom finally bent over and picked up the gun. 
After a bit of heavy breathing, we started on again.. That was when we
heard the noise down below and saw the thing.

It was movingalong the bank on the opposite side, near the water, under
the bridge.  You couldn't see it good, be cause it was outside of the
moonlight, in the shadows.  Its head was huge and there was something
like horns on it and the rest of it was dark as a coal bin.  It leaned
a little forward, as if trying to get a good look at us, and I could
see the whites of its eyes and chalky teeth shining in the moonlight. 
It made a hi keening noise, like a huge wood rat being slowly crushed
to death.  It made the noise twice and went silent.

"Jesus, Harry," Tom said.  "It's the Goat Man.  What do we do?"

I thought about going back.  That way we'd be across the river from it,
but then again, we'd have all that woods to travel through, and for
miles.  And if it crossed over somewhere, we'd have it tracking us
again, because I felt certain that's what had been following us in the
brambles.

If we went on across, we'd be above it, on the higher bank, and it
wouldn't be that far to the Preacher's Road.  The Goat Man didn't go as
far as the road.  That was his quitting place. He was trapped here in
the woods and along the banks of the Sabine.

"We got to go on," I said.  I took one more look at those white eyes
and teeth, and started pushing on across.  The bridge swung, but I had
more motivation now.  I was moving pretty good, and so was Tom.

When we were near to the other side, I looked down, but I couldn't see
the Goat Man anymore.  I didn't know if it was the angle or if it had
gone on.  I kept thinking when I got to the other side he would be
there, waiting.

But when we got to the other side there was only the trail that split
the deep woods.  It stood out in the moonlight and there was no one or
nothing on it.

We started down the trail.  Toby was heavy and I was trying not to jar
him too much, but I was so frightened I wasn't doing that good a job. 
He whimpered some.

After we'd gone on a good distance, the trail turned into shadow where
the limbs from trees reached out and hid it from the moonlight and
seemed to hold the ground in a kind of dark hug.

"I reckon if it's gonna jump us," I said, "that'd be the place." "Then
let's don't go there."

"You want to go back across the bridge?"

"I don't think so."

"Then we got to go on.  We don't know if he might have followed."

"Did you see those horus on his head?"

"I seen something'.  I think what we oughta do, least till we get
through that bend in the trail there, is swap.  You carry Toby and let
me carry the shotgun."

"I like the shotgun."

"Yeah, but I can shoot it without it knocking me down.  And I got the
shells."

Tom considered this.  "Okay," she said.

She put the shotgun on the ground and I gave her Toby.  I picked up the
gun and we started around the dark curve in the 'i trail.

When we were in deep shadow nothing leaped out on us, but as we neared
the moonlit part of the trail we heard movement in the woods.  The
same sort of movement we had heard back in the brambles.  Something was
pacing us again.

We reached the moonlit part of the trail and felt better.  But i! there
really wasn't any reason for it.  It was just a way of feeling 
Moonlight didn't change anything.  I looked over my der, into the
darkness we had just left, and in the middle of trail, covered in
shadow, I could see it. Standing there. Watching.

I didn't say anything to Tom about it.  Instead I said,

take the shotgun now, and I'll take Toby.  Then I want you to run with
everything you got to where the road is."

Tom, not beingany dummy, and my eyes probably giving me away, turued
and looked back in the shadows.  She saw it too.  It crossed into the
woods.  She turued, gave me Toby, took the shotgun, and took off like a
scalded-ass ape.

I ran after her, bouncing poor Toby, the stringed slappingagainst my
legs.  Toby whined and whimpered and ped.  The trail widened, the
moonlight grew brighter.  The red clay road came up.  We leaped onto
it, looked back. Shadows and moonlight.  Trees and the trail.

Nothing was after us.  We didn't hear anything moving in the woods.

"It okay now?"  Tom asked.

"Guess so.  They say he can't come as far as the road." "What if he
can?"

"Well, he can't... I don't think." "You think he killed that woman?"
"Figure he did."

"How'd she get to lookin' like that."

"Somethin' dead swells up like that.  You know that." "How'd she get
all cut?  On his horns?" "I don't know, Tom."

We went on down the road, and in time, after a number of rest stops,
after helping Toby go to the bathroom by holding up his tail and legs,
in the deepest part of the night, we reached home.

He wasn't

The sky had grown an altogether happy homecoming.

:loudy and the moon was no longer bright.  You could heat the cicadas
chirpingand frogs bleating off somewhere in bottoms.  When we entered
into the yard carrying Toby,

spoke from the shadows, and an owl, startled, flew up and temporarily
outlined against the faintly brighter sky.

"I ought to whup y'all's butts," Daddy said.

"Yes sir," I said.

Daddy was sitting in a chair under an oak in the yard.

was sort of our gathering tree, where we sat and talked shelled peas in
the summer.  He was smoking a pipe, a that would kill him laterin
life.  I could see its glow as he puffed flames from a match into the
tobacco.  The smell from the pipe,i was woody and sour to me.

We went over and stood beneath the oak, near his chair.

"Your mother's been worded sick," he said.  "Harry, you know better
than to stay out like that, and with your sister.

You're supposed to take care of her."

"Yes sir."

"I see you still have Toby."

"Yes sir.  I think he's doing better."

"You don't do better with a broken back."

"He treed six squirrels," I said.  I took my pocketknife out and cut
the stringaround my waist and presented him with the squirrels.  He
looked at them in the darkness, laid them beside his chair.

"You have an excuse," he said.

"Yes sir," I said.

"All right, then," he said.  "Tom, you go up to the house,

get the tub and start filling it with water.  It's warm enough you
won't need to heat it.  Not tonight.  You get after them bugs with the
kerosene and such, then bathe and hit the bed."

"Yes sir," she said.  "But Daddy..."

"Go to the house, Tom," Daddy said.

Tom looked at me, laid the shotgun on the ground, and went on toward
the house.

Daddy puffed his pipe.  "You said you had an excuse."

"Yes sir.  I got to runnin' squirrels, but there's something else. 
There's a body down by the river."

He leaned forward in his chair.  "What?"

I told him everything that had happened.  About being followed, the
brambles, the body, the Goat Man.  When I was finished he sat silent
for a time, then said, "There isn't any Goat

Man, Harry.  But the person you saw, it's possible he was the killer. 
You being out like that, it could have been you or Tom that he got."

"Yes sir."

"Suppose I'll have to take a look early morning.  You think you can
find her again?"

"Yes sir, but I don't want to."

"I know, but I'm gonna need your help."

Daddy took his pipe and knocked out the ash on the bottom of his shoe
and put the pipe in his pocket.  "You go up to the house now, and when
Tom gets through, you get the bu off of you and wash up.  I know you're
covered.  Hand me shotgun and I'll take care of Toby."

I started to say something, but I didn't know what to Daddy got up,
cradled Toby in his arms, and I put the shot in his hand.

"Damn rotten thing to happen to a good dog," he said.

Daddy started walking off toward the little barn we had back of the
house by the field.

"Daddy," I said.  "I couldn't do it.  Not Toby." "That's all right,
son," he said, and went on out to the When I got up to the house, Tom
was on the back porch, what we called a sleeping porch.  It wasn't real
big, it was comfortable in the summer.  There was a swinging held by
chains to the beams, and there were two pallet and a tin tub that hung
on the wall till it was needed.

Like right then.  Tom was in the tin tub and Mama was bing her hard and
fast by the light of a lantern hanging on porch beam directly above
them.

When I came up, Mama, who was in an old green dress foot, her sleeves
rolled up, was on her knees.  As I came through the screen from the
outside, she looked over her shoulder at Her raven black hair was
gathered up in a fat bun and a of it had come loose and was hanging
across her forehead eye.  She pushed it aside with a soapy hand, looked
at me.

I didn't understand it then, her being my mother and all, any time I
looked at her I found myself staring.  There something about her that
made you want to keep your eyes her face.  I had just begun to have a
hint of what it was. was pretty.  Years later I was to learn that many
thought her most beautiful woman in the county, and looking back on
handful of photos I have of her then, and even into her sixties I would
have to say that such an evaluation was most likely true.

2g

"You ought to know better than to stay out this late.  And scaring Tom
with stories about seeing a body." "I wasn't all that scared," Tom
said. "Hush, Tom," Mama said. "I wasn't."

"I said hush."

"It ain't a story, Mama," I said.

I told her about it, making it brief.

When I finished, she asked, "Where's your Daddy?" "He took Toby out to
the barn.  Toby's back is broken." "I heard.  I'm real sorry."

I listened for the blast of the shotgun, but after fifteen minutes it
still hadn't come.  Then I heard Daddy coming down from the barn, and
pretty soon he stepped out of the shadows, onto the porch and into the
lantern light.  He was carrying the shotgun, smoking his pipe.

"I don't figure he needs kinin'," Daddy said.  I felt my heart
lighten, and I looked at Tom, who was peeking under Mama's arm as Mama
scrubbed her head with lye soap.  "He could move his back legs a
little, lift his tail.  You might be right, Harry.  He might be better.
Besides, I wasn't any better doin' what ought to be done than you,
son.  He takes a turn for the worse, stays the same, well... In the
meantime, he's yours and Tom's responsibility. Feed and water him, and
you'll need to manage him to do his business somehow."

"Yes sir," I said.  "Thanks, Daddy."

"I fixed him up a place in the barn."

Daddy sat down on the porch swing with the shotgun cradled in his lap. 
"You say the woman was colored?"

"Yes sir."

Daddy sighed.  "That's gonna make it some difficult," he said.

Jne R. Lansdale

Next morning just as it grew light, I led Daddy to the Swinging
Bridge.  I didn't want to cross the bridge again.  I out from the bank
the spot across and down the river where body could be found.

"All right," Daddy said.  I'll manage from here.  You home.  Better
yet, get into town and open up the barbershop: Cecil will be wondering
where I am."

I went home by the slightly long way, not frightened of Goat Man during
the day, feeling, in fact, somewhat brave Hadn't I encountered him and
lived?

I went by Old Mose's shack, but I didn't stop in to

He was sitting on the bank of the river in his dry-docked wearing a
straw hat that was starting to unravel.  He was tlinga stick.  I
called out, "Mr.  Mose."  He turned his toward me and waved.

I had no idea how old Mose was, but I knew he was cient.  His red-black
skin was wrinkled like a raisin and of his teeth were gone.  His eyes
were red-streaked from and cigarette smoke.  He was always smoking
cigarettes, the kind he made from rolling paper and corn silk.  They up
fast and another had to be rolled almost as fast as the was lit.  Mose
used to take me fishing, and Daddy said that he was a boy Mose had
taught him to fish.

I went along the bank of the river, stopping long enough poke a dead
possum with a stick so as to stir the ants on then I hurried on to our
place.

I went out to the barn to check on Toby.  He was around on his belly,
wiggling his back legs some.  I gave him a pat, carried him to the
house, and left Tom with the duty to :! look after him being fed and
watered, then I got the barbershop key, saddled up Sally Redback, and
rode her the five miles into town.

Marvel Creek wasn't much of a town really, not that it's anything now,
but back then it was mostly two streets.  Main and West.  West had a
row of houses.  Main had the general store, courthouse, post office,
doctor's office, the barbershop my Daddy owned, a drugstore with a nice
soda fountain, a newspaper of rice and that was about it.  There were
potholes on Main Street, and there was limited electricity in the
courthouse, doctor's of rice drugstore, and general store.

Another staple of Marvel Creek was a band of roving hogs that belonged
to Old Man Crittendon.

The hogs were tolerated most of the time, but once a big one got after
Mrs.  Owens and chased her down West all the way into her house.  Being
how she was a little on the fat side, the general talk of the men
around town--who didn't care much for Mrs.  Owens because she was a
Yankee and apt to remind folks constantly that the North won the
war--named this momentous event the Race of Two Hogs.

Anyway, Mrs.  Owens's husband, Jason, who wore a beard and dressed in
stiff clothes, shot the hog on his front porch with a shotgun, but not
before he blew off the porch steps, knocked down a support post, and
dropped the roof on the hog and him self.  The hog recovered, Mr. 
Owens didn't.

Mr.  Owens was missed, and Old Man Crittendon missed his hog, but Mrs. 
Owens, who moved back up North with the rest of the Yankees, was not. 
Mr.  Crittendon made a special effort to keep the hogs home for a week
or two, but soon they were loose again, roamingabout, getting yelled
at and chased off by rock-tossing pedestrians.  The hogs accepted this,
and had perfected a kind of sideways jump upon heatinganything that
might be a missile whizzing in their direction.

Our barbershop was a little one-room white building built under a
couple of oaks.  It was big enough for one real barber chair, and a
regular chair with a cushion on the seat and a cu ion fastened to the
back.  Daddy cut hair out of the barber and Cecil used the other.

During the summer the door was open, and there was a screen door
between you and the flies.  The flies liked to on the screen, which was
the only barrier between you and Daddy preferred the main door open. 
The reason for this simple.  It was hot and the wind came through and
cooled some.  Though that time of year the wind was often hot.  It's
kind of weather where you learn to move as little as seek shade, and
stay low to the ground.

Cecil was sitting on the steps reading the weekly news when I arrived. 
There wasn't any set time for opening the shop, but usually Daddy
opened it around nine.  It was likely later than that when I showed
up.

Cecil looked up, said, "Where's your Daddy?"

I tied Sally to one of the oaks, went over to unlock the and as I did,
I gave Cecil a bit of a rundown, letting him what Daddy was doing.

Cecil listened, shook his head, made a clucking noise his tongue, then
we were inside.

I loved the aroma of the shop.  It smelled of alcohol, fectants, and
hair oils.  The bottles were in a row on a shelf hind the barber chair,
and the liquid in them was in colors.  Red and yellow and a blue one
that smelled faintly coconut.  When the sunlight shone through and hit
the bottles,! it lit them up like the jewels from King Solomon's
mines.

There was a long bench along the wall near the door and a table with a
stack of magazines with bright covers.  Most of the magazines were
detective stories.  I read them whenever I got a chance, and sometimes
Daddy brought the worn ones home.

When there weren't any customers, Cecil read them too, sit ting on the
bench with a hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth,

like one of the characters out of the magazines.  Hard boiled,
careless, fearless.

Cecil was a big man, and from what I heard around town and indirectly
from Daddy, ladies found him good-looking.  He had a well-tended shock
of reddish hair, bright eyes, and a nice face with slightly hooded
eyes.  He had come to Marvel Creek not too long ago, a barber looking
for work.  Daddy, realizing he might have competition, put him in the
extra chair and gave him a percentage.

Daddy had since halfway regretted it.  It wasn't that Cecil wasn't a
good worker, nor was it Daddy didn't like him.  It was the fact Cecil
was too good.  Daddy had learned his barbering by hit or miss, but
Cecil had actually had training and had some kind of certificate that
said so.  Daddy let him pin it to the wall next to the mirror.

Cecil could really cut hair, and pretty soon, more and more of Daddy's
customers were waiting for Cecil to take their turn. More mothers came
with their sons and waited while Cecil cut their boy's hair and chatted
with them as he pinched their kid's cheeks and made them laugh.  Cecil
was like that.  He could chum up to anyone in a big-city minute. 
Especially women.

As for the men, he loved to talk to them about fishing.  He'd strap his
rowboat on top of his car and drive off to the river every chance he
got.  He enjoyed dropping off work for a couple days to camp.  He
always brought back a lot of fish and Sometimes squirrels, which he
loved to give away.  He always gave the biggest ones to us.

Though Daddy never admitted it, I could see it got his goat, way Cecil
was so popular.  There was also the fact that when Mama came to the
shop she wilted under Cecil's gaze, turned red.  She laughed when he
said things that weren't that funny.

Cecil had cut my hair a few times, when Daddy was busy, and the truth
was, it was an experience.  Cecil loved to talk, and he told great
stories about places he'd been.  All over the United

Jae R. Lansdale

States, all over the world.  He had fought in World War seen some of
the dirtiest fighting.  Beyond admitting that, didn't say much about
it.  It seemed to pain him.

If Cecil was fairly quiet on the war, on everything else was a regular
blabbermouth.  He kidded me about girls, sometimes the kidding was a
little too far to one side for and he'd flash a look at Cecil.  I could
see them in the behind the reading bench, the one designed for the
customer look in while the barber snipped away.  Cecil would take look,
wink at Daddy, and change the subject.  But Cecil seemed to come back
around to it, taking a real interest in girlfriend I might have, even
if I didn't really have any. that, he made me feel as if I were growing
up, taking part the rituals and thoughts of men.

Tom liked him too, and in fact had a girlish crush on and sometimes she
came down to the barbershop just to around him, and if he was in the
mood he'd flatter her a and now and then give her a nickel.  Which was
good.  It I'd probably get one too.

What was most amazingabout Cecil was the way he cut hair.  His
scissors were like a part of his hand.  They and turned and snipped
with little more than a flex of his When I was in his chair, pruned
hair haloed around me in sunlight and my head became a piece of
sculpture, from a mass of unruly locks to a work of art.  Cecil never a
beat, never poked you with the scissor tips--which couldn't say.  When
Cecil rubbed spiced oil into your parted and combed your hair, spun you
around to look in closer mirror behind the chairs, you weren't the same
guy more.  I thought I looked older, more manly, when he was ished.

When Daddy did the job, parted my hair, put on the oil, let me out of
the chair (he never spun me for a look like did his adult customers), I
was still just a kid.  With a

Since on this day I'm talking about, Daddy was out, I asked i cecil if
he would cut my hair, and he did, finishing with hand whipped shaving
cream and a razor around my ears to get those bits of hair too contrary
for scissors.  Cecil used his hands to work oil into my scalp, and he
massaged the back of my neck with his thumb and fingers.  It felt warm
and tingly in the heat and made me sleepy.

No sooner had I climbed down from the chair than Old Man Nation drove
up in his mule-drawn wagon and he and his two grown boys came in.  Mr. 
Ethan Nation was a big man in overalls with tufts of hair in his ears
and crawling out of his nose. His boys were redheaded, jug-eared
versions of him.  They all chewed tobacco, probably since birth, and
their teeth that weren't green from lack of cleaning were brown with
chaw.  They car tied cans with them and spat in them between words. 
Most of their conversation being tied to or worked around cuss word snot
often spoken in polite company in that day and time.

They never came in to get a haircut.  They cut their own hair with a
bowl and scissors, and it looked like it.  They sat in the waiting
chairs and read what words they could out of the magazines before
their lips got tired, or they complained about how bad times were.

Daddy said they had bad times mostly because they were so lazy they
wouldn't scratch bird mess out of a chair before they sat in it. 
Customers came in for a haircut, they wouldn't move and give them the
chairs, even though they didn't have any interest in a trim.  They had,
as Daddy said, the manners of a billy goat.  I once heard him say to
Cecil, when he thought I was out of earshot, that if you took the
Nation family's brains and wadded them up together and stuck them up a
gnat's butt and shook the gnat, it'd sound like a ball bearing in a
boxcar.

Cecil, though no friend of the Nations, always managed to e polite,
and, as Daddy often said, he was a man liked to talk,

even if he was talking to the devil about how much fire going to be set
between his toes.

No sooner had Old Man Nation taken a seat than Cecil "Harry says
there's been a murder."

I wondered what Daddy would think of my big Daddy was a man liked to
talk himself, but it was usually something.  When it wasn't any of your
business, you hear it from him.

Once the word was out, there was nothing for me to do tell it all. 
Well, almost all.  For some reason I left the Goat out of it.  I hadn't
even told Cecil that part.

When I was finished, Mr.  Nation was quiet for a then he said, "Well,
one less nigger wench ain't gonna hurt world none."  Then to me: "Your
Pa's lookin' in on this?" "Yes sir," I said.

"Well, he's probably upset about it.  He was always one worry about the
niggers.  He ought to leave it alone, let niggers keep on kinin' each
other, then the rest of us won't 'em to worry with it."

I had never really thought about my father's personal liefs, but
suddenly it occurred to me his were opposite of of Mr.  Nation, and Mr.
Nation, though he liked our for wasting time, didn't really like my
Daddy.  The fact didn't, that Daddy had an opposite point of view to
his, me feel good, and at that moment, measuring the contrast tween the
two, I think my views and my Daddy's, at least the race issue, became
forever welded.

In time, Doc Taylor came in.  He wasn't the main doctor Marvel Creek,
he was working with Doc Stephenson, a old man that had tended to me and
my family a few Stephenson, with his sour puss and white hair, reminded
me how I thought Scrooge in that story about the Christmas ghosts
should look.

Doc Taylor was a tall, blond man with a quick smile.  The ladies liked
him even better than Cecil.  He always had a good vcord for everyone,
and was fond of children.  He always treated Tom like a princess. 
Once, out at the house, stopping by to check on her when she had a bad
cold, he brought her a small bag of candy.  I remember it well.  She
didn't share a one of them with me.  Next time I saw Doc Taylor I said
something to him about it, and he laughed, said, "Well now.  Women,
they got their ways.  You got to admit that."

He didn't offer to explain that comment in depth or to fix me up with a
bag of candy of my own, so I bore him the small est of resentments.

Around his neck Doc Taylor wore a French coin on a little chain.  It
had been struck by a bullet and dented.  The coin had been in his shirt
pocket, and he credited it with saving his life. One night when Mama
mentioned it, talking about how lucky Doc Taylor had been, Daddy said,
"Yeah, well, I figure he banged it with a hammer and made up that
cock-' n'bull story.  It gives him something' to tell the ladies."

Anyway, I was glad to see him come in.  It took some of the edge out of
the air, and he and Cecil went to talking about this and that while
Cecil snipped at Doc Taylor's hair.

Reverend Johnson, a Methodist preacher, came in next, and Mr.  Nation,
feeling the pressure, packed himself and his two boys in their wagon
and went on down the road to annoy some one else.  Cecil told Reverend
Johnson about the murder, and the Reverend clucked over it and changed
the subject.

Late in the day, Daddy arrived.  When Cecil asked him about the murder,
Daddy looked at me, and I knew I should have kept nay mouth shut.

Daddy didn't add any new information however.  "I just soon I didn't
see nothing like it again, and I sure hate Harry and Tom seen it."

"I seen some stuff in the war, all right," Cecil said.  "But it Was
war, not murder.  I was fifteen.  Lied about my age, and I

Jee R. I.ansdale was big, so I got away with it.  I had to do over,
wouldn't haw done it."

Cecil, without saying a word, took a comb from the shelf, i walked over
to me, re parted and arranged my hair.

hung around for a while, but Daddy didn't get one customer, and
no one was talking about anything that interested me.  There weren't
any new magazines I wanted to read, so after

I had swept up the cut hair, Daddy gave me a couple pennies and sent me
on my way.

I went over to the general store, spent a long time looking at' bolts
of colored cloth, mule harnesses, and all manner of dry and soft goods,
geegaws and the like.  It came down to a Dr.

Pepper out of the ice barrel, or peppermint sticks.

I finally zeroed in on the peppermint sticks.  My two cents bought
four.  The storekeeper, Mr.  Groon, bald, pink-faced, and generous,
winked, gave me six sticks, wrapped them and put them in a sack.  I
took them back to the barbershop, left them for picking up later, then,
with no hair to sweep, and nothing to do, I went roaming.

From time to time I liked to visit Miss Maggie.  That's how she was
known to most.  Not as Maggie or Auntie, as many elderly colored women
were called, but simply Miss Maggie.

Miss Maggie was rumored to be a hundred years old.  She worked every
day and somehow managed to plow a little with a mule named Matt.  Matt
was as tame a mule as ever a plow down a corn row, even more than Sally
Redback.  M gie said hardest part to plowing Matt was hitching up the
ri After that, it was Matt done the work.  Considering the of acres she
plowed were deep sand and Miss Maggie had le about the size of hoe
handles, and wasn't overall bigger than large child, some credit had to
go to her.

She was black as midnight, wrinkled like eroded land, the twisted hair
on her head had gone sparse.  She dressed faded cotton shifts made of
potato or feed sacks, wore men' socks and cheap black shoes she ordered
out of the Sears Roebuck catalogue.  Outside, she wore a big black hat
with brim left flat and the crown of the hat uncreased.  Story was hat
had belonged to her husband, who was prone to beat and had run off with
a Tyler woman.

The land she owned had once belonged to Old Man Flyer' father.  After
the Civil War and the freeing of the slaves, he Miss Maggie on at the
farm as a servant.  Later, for her cation, he willed her a parcel of
land, twenty-five acres in She kept five acres of it for a house, a
barn, a bit of a and sold the rest to the town of Marvel Creek.  It was
she kept money from the sell buried in her yard in a fruit A number of
would-be robbers had dug spots in her yard, after a few shotgun blasts
over their heads, the investi stopped, and it came to be said that her
money had been spent up.

Outside her house was Matt's pen.  It consisted of a tied tight to
posts to form a square.  Matt had a shed inside the rope and inside the
shed there was always plenty of fresh water, grain, corn husks, and the
like.  Matt worked on the honor term, stayed inside that rope.  He had
a pretty good deal and knew it.

There was so a hog pen with little shoat roamingabout

Tied to the house, stretched out with the other end tied to a
chinaberry tree (everyone I knew called them chinerberry trees) was a
rope clothesline on which hung sheets and what the women I knew called
unmentionables, meaning underwear.

Miss Maggie's house was a simple weathered shack with a loose tarpaper
roof, a short narrow porch under which a number of chickens and the
occasional stray dog liked to rest in the heat of the day.  On the
porch was a rocking chair made of warped cane.  The house leaned
slightly to the right.  It had one door and a dusty screen.  There were
yellow oilskin shades she pulled down over her three patched screen
windows when sun light or privacy warranted it, and the glass itself
was fly specked In the summer all the windows were raised to let air
come in through the screens, which were essential to keep out the
flies. If you kept stock, especially that close to the house, they were
twice as bad.

I went to the screen door and chased away all the flies that were lit
on it.  Miss Maggie was at her wood stove, taking biscuits out of the
oven.  I could smell them through the screen, and they made my mouth
water.  I called her name, and she turned and greeted me like she
always did, her braided hair whiter than when I had seen her last. 
"Hey, boy.  You git in here and sit down."

I shooed the flies again, went inside.  I sat at her little table in a
slightly tippy chair.  She put some biscuits on a battered tin plate
and poured me up some sorghum syrup from a can she heated on the stove,
told me to eat.  I did.

Those biscuits were so soft they melted in the mouth, and the sorghum,
which she had most likely traded some corn for, was as good as any ever
ground by a mule-operated mill and cooked down sweet by human hands.

As I ate, I looked at a double-barreled shotgun hung over two huge
nails driven into the wall, and her black hat hung next to it.  She sat
across from me and ate, then said, I

I'm gonna fry me some salt pork.  You want some?" "Yes'm."

She opened the oven's warmer, took out some salt pork. was smoked
already and could have just been warmed, but put a little lard in a pan
and stoked up the wood in the and set to frying it.  It wasn't long
before it was ready.  We the pork and more biscuits.  She said, "I can
tell you're 'bout to burst, dyin' to tell me something'."

"I don't know I'm supposed to," I said.

"Well then you don't need to tell it."

"But I ain't exactly been told not to tell it."

She grinned at me.  She had two good teeth in the top her mouth and
four on the bottom, and one of them didn't so good.  Still, they
managed to chew biscuits and tear salt

I figured whatever I told Miss Maggie didn't matter. wasn't gonna get
back to Daddy with it, so I told her finding the colored woman down in
the bottoms and about being something in the woods following me and
Tom.

When I finished she shook her head.  "That a shame.  Am no one gonna do
nothin' about it.  It just another dead ni "Daddy will," I said.

"Well, he only one might, but he probably ain't neither. just one man. 
They'll ride him down, boy.  Best thing can pen 'bout all this is be
gone on and forgot."

"Don't you want them to catch who done it?"

"It ain't gonna be.  You can rest on that.  My people, like chaff, boy.
They blow away in the breeze and ain't no cares.  Whoever done this
have to kill a white person if he get the big law on him."

"That ain't right," I said.

"You better not be sayin' that too loud, or them Kluxers be comin' to
see you."

"My Daddy would run them off."

She cackled.  "He might at that."  She studied me for a long moment. 
"You best stay out of them woods, boy.  Man do some thing like that, he
ain't got nothin' ga inst hurtin' chil'ren.  You hear me?"

"Why would someone do something like that, Miss Maggie

"Ain't no one but Gawd knows reason 'hind that.  I think what we got
there is a Travelin' Man."

"Travelin' Man?"

"That's what they calls a man like that, does them kind of things to
womens.  Anyways, what my Daddy called 'em." "What's a Traveling
Man?"

Miss Maggie eased out of her chair, walked over to the cabinet took
out a little green tin and brought it to thetable.  She opened the
tin, removed a pinch of snuff and poked it between cheek and gum.

I knew she was about to tell me a story.  The snuff, the comfortable
position, it was her way.  It was how she had first told me tales about
thetar baby and the big snake of the bottoms that was killed in
nineteen and ten.  It was said to be a water moccasin forty-five feet
long, and when it was split open a child was found inside.  When I told
my Daddy that one, he just snorted.

Outside a cloud moved over the sun and darkened the greasy windows and
the light through the screen door.  I watched as the flies regrouped on
the screen, lighting slowly, clustering together in a dusky wad, as if
they too wanted to hear Miss Maggie story; their accumulation made a
shadow on the floor and across thetable, like a rain cloud.

Off in the distance I heard a wagon clatter, followed by the Sound of a
car.  It was a hot day and even warmer in the shack because of the
stove and the tight space.  I felt cozy and almost sleepy.

Joe g. Lansdale

"Dat ole Travelin' Man, he someone you don't want no with, boy.  They's
folks wants to have anything at any ole

Wants it so bad, they makes 'em a deal." "What kind of deal?" "With the
debil."

"Uh uh.  No one would do that."

"Would too.  They was this colored man named Dandy in the time the
numbers turned to nineteen and ought.  It the year that big ole
hur'a'cun blowed Galveston away.  I

a sister down there and she was drowned durin' that." "Really?"

"Uh huh.  They gathered up all them bodies and burned boy.  I don't
know nothin' other than she had to have and if her body got found, then
she got burned up.  That's they had to do, was so many dead'ns. 
Coloreds.  Whites. ens and chil'ren."  '

This was interesting, but I didn't want her to stray too away from her
story about the Travelin' Man and Dandy.  I "What about Dandy?"

"Dandy," she said.  "Well, he loved to play a fiddle, but weren't no
good at it.  He couldn't make that fiddle talk. wanted to be like them
could, but 'ceptin' for a tune or two could play to kinfolks, and them
puttin' up with it, he weren't good at all.  So you know what he done,
Little Man?"

"No ma'am."

"He got him some whiskey, and he drank him a little of then made water
in it.  You know, pee-peed in it."

"In the whiskey?"

"That's what I done said.  Just let it go in that bottle till fill on
back up.  Put back what he drunk, guess you could say. He put the cap
on it and shook it up.  You know why he done that?"

"No."

""Cause they says that's the way the Old Man likes it.  He a man's
water spices it up."

"The Old Man?"

"Old Man got other names.  Satan.  Beezlebubba.  The debil. Thing is,
you don't know you call him up you really talkin' to him or one of dem
soldiers he got, but that don't matter none. Dandy, you see, was tryin'
to become a Travelin' Man."

Miss Maggie paused to spit.  She had a big cracked cup she kept for the
purpose, and now she reached it off the little shelf by the stove
behind her and spat snuff juice into it.  She wiped her mouth with the
back of her hand, said, "You gonna do this right, thing Dandy wanted to
do, you got to gets down in them bottoms where it's the thickest, and
there's a crossroads." "There's crossroads everywhere, Miss Maggie."

"Uh huh.  But the best place to meet the debil or one of his soldiers
is down in the deepest part of them bottoms, on a walkin' trail that
crosses.  And you got to be there right when it's gonna turn both hands
up."

"Both hands up?"

"Hands on the clock, boy.  Twelve midnight.  You got to have you a good
pocket watch keeps the right time.  "Cause you got to be on time.  You
got to be standin' right there in the center where the crossroads
cross, and you got to be havin' you that peed-in whiskey with you."

"That what Dandy did?"

"They say he did.  Say he went down in them bottoms with his peed-in
whiskey and his fiddle and bow, stood at them cross roads, and sure
'nuff, right when he's checkin' the face of his turnip watch with a
match, there's a tap on his shoulder.

"Now he jerks 'round fast, and there's the debil.  He got a big ole
pumpkin head and wear him a little black suit with shiny black shoes,
and got a big ole smile, and he says to Dandy, noddin' at that whiskey
bottle, "At for me?"  And Dandy, he says, "Yeah it is, if'n you se the
debil."  And this pumpkin he he say, "I'm what you might call his lead
man, Bubba."" "Bubba?"

Miss Maggie paused to spit in her cup again.  "Uh h

Beezlebubba.

Bubba.  I always figured Bubba was probably gets it.  BeezleBUBBA."

"Oh, yes ma'am... Who's Beezlebubba?"

"It's just another name for the debil, Little Man.  Like Sera

It's probably a Northern name or something'.  But this here feller

whether he's really the debil or the debil's man, I can't tell y

But whoever he was, he got the power to make the deal.  So takes that
peed-in whiskey and drinks him a big jolt, and i say to Dandy, "What is
it you want?"  and Dandy, he say,

I can play this here fiddle better'n anyone they is."  And Bu tell him,
that's fine, he can do that, but Dandy gonna have write his mark on a
line."

"His mark?"

"Them can't write they name, they use they mark."

"Oh."

"So Bubba pulls out of his coat this big long paper,

is what them lawyers, who is a lot like the debil, calls a tact."

"Contact?"

"Yes suh, Little Man.  A contact."

"Oh, a contract."

"All righty then, then it's that.  But don't be correctin'

now.  Ain't polite."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then Bubba, he jerks the fiddle bow out of Dandy's and it cuts him on
the tip of one of his rangers.  Then he

Dandy make his mark on the line with the blood on his fan and he says,
"Now here's your fiddle bow back.  You done me your soul for what I
done give to you."

"That's good with Dandy, and he goes to play right there,

danged if that ain't a different bow in his hand than the from him, and
a different fiddle.  I mean it's the same,

it ain't.  You follow me?"

I didn't entirely, but I said I did.

"So Dandy, he gets to playin' right there, and it's the most

st sound you ever done heard.  And when he looks up hittin' a few
notes, Bubba and that blood-marked con contract, is done gone.

"Now Dandy a happy man.  He got the best fiddle playin' 'round.  And
the womens love him.  He goes to dances, and them womens all around. 
He gets give free drinks and lots of folks tell him how good he is. 
It's the life for Dandy.  Then he goes to this barn dance over'n Big
Sandy, and he's playin' and people are dancin', and when he pauses to
get him some rest, this stutterin' fella with a fiddle comes up and
asks can he play and a bit.  A song or two, you see.

"Dandy sees a chance to look even better.  He lets this fella play. 
Figures that man ain't gonna match what the debil's done done for him,
and if he sangs some, all that stutterin', he's bound to sound like a
chicken workin' on a ear of corn.  It gonna make Dandy look even
better, see."

"Yes ma'am."

"So now, Dandy, he 'sides to really polish the apple, so he brings up
this here fella and says how he's a man wants to play a song or two,
sang a little.  And he says how he ain't never heard him, but always
wants to give a fella a chance.  So this nervous fella, who turns out
is from a little ole town called Gilmer, gets up there, hits on his
strangs with the bow, then cuts into it.  And you know what, Little
Man?"

"No ma'am."

"He good.  He can play that fiddle like he part of it.  And sang.  He
sang real purty, 'cause when he sangs, he don't stutter.  So all them
folks is dancin' and start'n to happy hoot and holler, and after one
tune, this here fella, who I heard was named

Ormond, he plays him nut her then a nut her and it's like of the
angels got hold of that fiddle bow, and pretty soon,

Dandy, he done forgot.  Ain't nobody missin' him."

"Bet that made him mad."

"Oooowweeeeee.  All of a sudden, right in the middle breakdown, Dandy
jump up with his fiddle and crack that mond fella right upside the head
and knock him down.  Then go to beatin' on him.  And he beat him till
he done broke fiddle all apart, and then he start to choke Ormond, and
soon, Ormond, he's dead.

"Well, now.  People are starin' at Dandy, and he got on his hands, and
no fiddle.  Busted it all to pieces.  So he up Ormond's fiddle and bow
an run off through the back 'fore folks can figure on what to do.  Then
they after 'em. it's too late.  He know them bottoms like the back of
his and he gone.  He done become a Travelin' Man.

"Since it was a colored kinin' a colored, white law go after him none,
and all the colored 'round here wasn't in place to do nothin', so
Dandy, he get off on the other side the bottoms, and he start at it."

"At what?"

"Travelin'.  He kind of like a bum, you see.  He go house to house,
tryin' to beg him a little something' to eat such, and people hear about
this fella travelin' around with fiddle, playin' a tune or two for his
dinner, but he ain't no on the fiddle.  No good at all.  So folks that
hear this, they do, n figure on it being Dandy, 'cause Dandy, he can
play good pig can eat.  But it's Dandy."

"How come he can't play?"

"Comin' to that.  You jumpin' ahead."

"Sorry, Miss Maggie."

"Where this Travelin' Man and his fiddle go, they's ens start turnin'
up dead.  You see, he got a bitter thing in now.  He always did want
the womens to like him, but now in't l t that loin' for kim 'can fin't
tot no fiddli' to lw trim in, and it' hoi ling him mid.  Or, that' fiow
I fiTul' o it.  Ain't no on rally know.  But thi i c;,in, for tl' years
he wandered all over East Texas kinin' colored womens and girls, and
to the white law it don't mean a thing.

"But he finally gets him a little white girl, mistreats and kills her. 
Kluxers get on his tail, 'cause it ain't just about niggers kinin'
niggers anymore, you see.  And he getting' bolder and bolder, and he
kills a white woman over near them honky-tonks in Gladewater, and the
Klan run him down and cut him where a man don't want to be cut, tar and
feather him, hang 'im and light him on fire.  And that's the end of
Dandy on this here earth, and it one of the few times the Klan do us
all a favor." I thought about that for a while.  I said, "But why
couldn't he play the fiddle no more?  If the devil gave him the power,
wouldn't he be able to play?"

"I done some thinkin' on that.  What I figure is that ole pumpkin head
give him that fiddle and say you can play good on this here fiddle,
that's exactly what he meant.  That fiddle.  When he smashed it up, and
took a dead man's fiddle, a man learned to play it by hard work and not
no pee in a bottle and a trip to the crossroads, he couldn't play no
mo'.  You see?"

I did.  But I still had questions.  "If you didn't see the devil, or
the devil's man, how do you know he had a pumpkin head?"

"I knowed how he looked 'cause there's folks I know, includin' cousins,
seen the debil and know what he and all his men look like.  They can
look different ways too.  Might not have a head like a pumpkin all the
time.  Might have horns. Might look like a banker or one of them
polatickans, but I'm just figure'n on how he might have looked that
night.  I'm colorin' the story some, but that don't mean it ain't
true." "And this woman me and Tom found, you think it's someone sold
his soul to the devil done that to her?  A Travelin' Man?"

Joe g. I.ansdale

"If'n you ain't sold your soul to the debil you wouldn't such a thing,
Little Man.  It could be the debil himself.

time he like to do his own work."

"What about the Goat Man?"

"Little Man, I think the Goat Man might be the debil.  I he can look
anyway he wants, and ain't them goat horns hoofs jcs like the debil? 
If'n I was the debil, them bottoms where I'd be a runnin' 'cause they
dark and wet and got manner of thing in 'em.  Let me gives you a word
of You stay away from anything to do with what the debil

'cause you get in with him he'll trick on you.  You hear?" "Yes
ma'am."

"Now you need to run on.  I got me some washboard'n do."

"Yes ma'am.  Thanks for the food."

"You welcome.  Now you draw some water out of the and water that ole
hog of mine.  And you come back and me."

I went out, letting the screen door loose, not so that it slam, but
enough it would jar the flies that were on it.

I went out to the well, dropped the bucket and up, poured from it into
the totin' bucket.  I made several with the bucket to fill the hog's
tub with water.

As I went away I remembered another time Miss Ma told me about how
flies are the devil's eyes and ears, and got me to thinking.

When I turned my head to look back at her house, the had already filled
the screen again, and a big fat one was around my sweaty head.

I swatted at it, but it got away.

back the house, in bed, ear against the night,

at lying my wall, Tom asleep across the way in her own little bed made
of crude lumber and nailed tight together by Daddy, I listened.

The walls were thin.  When it was good and quiet, and Mama and Daddy
were talking, I could hear them.

"Doc Stephenson, the old pill roller, wouldn't even look at her," Daddy
said.  "Said if folks found out he'd had a colored in his office
wouldn't nobody use him no more."

"That's terrible..  What about Doc Taylor?"

"Well, I figure he's at least had some actual medical school.

I guess they got medical schools in Arkansas or Oklahoma,

wherever it is he's from."

"Missouri," Mama said.

"Anyway, he'd have come looked at her.  He wanted to real bad, like it
was some kind of adventure, you know.  But I didn't want to take the
chance on him getting' in trouble with Stephen son to do me a favor. 
Might go bad for him in the long run,

mess up his doctorin' career.  He's set up to take over Stephen

Son's practice when he retires in a year or so, he seems like a nice
enough fella.  I drove the body over to Pearl Creek to a doctor
there."

Pearl Creek was an all-colored town.

"She was in our car?  I mean, didn't it foul the car?" "It didn't hurt
anything.  After Harry showed me where was, I came back, drove over to
Billy Gold's house.  He and brother went down there with me, helped me
wrap her in a t carry her out, and put her in the car.  We wrapped her
up go, No leakage.  I drove her over to Pearl Creek and they pac her in
ice in the icehouse."

"I wouldn't be wantingany of that ice."

"Body was in pretty bad shape to begin with.  Some pie come off her. 
We had to throw thetarp away." "And she was in our car?  Dear me." "I
blew the odor out driving it home." "Oh, my goodness."

"Doc Tinn, the colored doctor, he was out of town.  We be back till
tomorrow.  He was out country deliver'n a baby.  I gonna drive over
there in the morning, see if I can learn son thin'.  I don't know
nothin' about this kind of murder." "You're sure it's murder?"

"Well, honey, think about it.  I don't suppose she cut hers up like
that and ended up tied to a tree with wire."

"You're awful impatient, Jacob... Wire?  She was tied w wire?"

"She was bound with a couple strands of barbed wire a a bunch of vines.
Someone sure had enjoyed that wire p They'd taken a piece of wood and
fastened it to the wire a used it as a kind of crank so they could wrap
it around the tr loop it, and tighten it by twistin' that wood like a
handle.  Th

I 'spect he messed with her."

"Surely not."

"I don't know much about these things, but I know ,s didn't fix herself
to that tree.  And as for people doin' these ki about this Jack the
Ripper guy in London.  He cut women's up.  For fun.  He cut pieces out
of them.  He messed with their womanly parts."

"That's got to be just some kind of story."

"That's history.  They never caught him.  He killed they don't know how
many, but they never caught him or had no idea who it was.  Then Cecil,
at the shop, and bear in mind he'd rather hear himself talk about most
anything than to let a room go quiet, told me when he was in the war in
France, there was a fella that at night would roam the battlefield
looking for some one alive, you know, hangin' on from wounds.  Germans.
 And he'd do things with the bodies.  Like a man would with a woman.

Only in a different place." "A different place." "You know.  There."
"You can do that?"

"If you're determined," Daddy said.  "This fella, they could see him
from the trenches.  Had on an American uniform, and he was doin' these
things to the bodies."

"They didn't stop him?"

"Wasn't no one crazy as he was.  They wouldn't get out there on the
battlefield, and they weren't gonna shoot their own.  It was war.  And
way they was thinking then was at least he was doin' it to Germans. 
Cecil said you got so you thought different  War does that.  He
figured it was just punishment for the enemy.  They could see this
fella at night, one that was doin' it, and he'd wander among the dead
an dyin' lookin' for someone to mess with, and Cecil said they didn't
always have to be alive."

"He's lyin', Jacob.  Got to be."

"Cecil said this fella would do this kind of thing, then disappear
back into the trenches.  They all had their suspicions who it was, but
no one knowed for sure.  They just saw his uniform,

Joe R. iaasdale never got a good look at his face.  Or if anyone did,
didn't come forward.  Cecil said he saw him once, but he just roamin'
out there, like a ghost.  Not doin' anything Just lookin' over the
bodies.  He was surprised the weren't shootingat him.  Cecil said he
never met anyone actually seen the man doin' anything.  Just seen him
roamin' "Cecil didn't actually see him do nothin' then?" "No.  He just
heard the rumors."

"So it could have been a made-up story?  A lie told to and he told it
to you."

"Could be Cecil lyin' right out.  But say it ain't a lie. about it. 
Fella like that gets by with doin' them things in war, and comes
home..."

"But he was doin' it to men."

"Maybe 'cause they were available.  Maybe he'd just as or rather, do it
to women.  I ain't no expert on these Far as I know, there ain't no
expert on these matters.  One I come to figure though, Way that woman's
body was tortured by that barbed wire, figure the body was already when he
put the wire to her.  She'd been alive, it would bled out, and those
wounds didn't look to have drawn blood.  "Course, river could have been
up and washed it but I think she was dead awhile and he come back to
play her.  Like an alligator will stuff its kill in a hole in the bank,
come back when it's ripened some."

"No one would do that."

"When Jack Newman shot his brother-in-law while and there were fifteen
witnesses seen him do it, that wasn't hard to figure.  This... I don't
know.  It don't look like I've seen before.  I got my ideas, but that's
all they are. hoping this Doc Tinn can help me out."

Mama and Daddy went quiet after that, then a little

I heard Mama say, "... I ain't exactly in the mood after little bedtime
story you told me.  Sorry, hon."

"All right," Daddy said.  Then came complete silence.  I snug under the
covers, overcome by something I couldn't quite put a name to.  Fear. 
Excitement.  A sense of mystery.  They had talked about things I never
even suspected could exist or happen.

I decided right then I was gonna be up early in the morning see if I
could get Daddy to let me ride with him over to Pearl Creek.  I thought
he owed me that.  After all, I had found the body.

I lay there, drifting off, then it began to rain, softly at first, then
hard.  The sound of it helped put me to sleep.

"No.  You can't go."

"But Daddy--"

"No ifs, ands, buts, or maybes.  You can't go."

It was just daylight.  I had hardly slept a wink last night, fearing
I'd miss being up in time to talk to Daddy about the trip.  But I
didn't feel a bit tired.  I was boiling with energy and excitement.  I
hadn't let on I had heard them talking through the wall.  I had
innocently asked Daddy what his plans were that day, and when he said
Pearl Creek, I asked why Pearl Creek, and he told me had to check with
the doctor over there about the woman's body I had found.  That's when
I asked if I could go.

"I wouldn't be any trouble," I said.

"That may be, son.  But I don't think you oughta go with me.  This is
grown-up business."

We were sittingat thetable.  Daddy was eatinga couple of eggs Mama
had fried up.  He was poking the yellows with a big biscuit.  I was
having the same with a glass of buttermilk Mama had poured for me.  She
kept it cool by lowering the capped bottle down in the well and pulling
it out when we wanted a taste.

I drank and ate quickly, fearing Tom would wake up, back then we were
all early risers.  Once Tom woke up, out I was trying to go with Daddy,
then it would darn sure spoiled because Tom would want to go, and if
Daddy want me to go, he sure wouldn't want her to go.  It was for him
to say no to both of us than yes to one of us when were both wanting
the same thing.

"Course, he had already told me no, but I had learned no didn't always
mean no, right at first anyway.  By the Daddy got to the third no, then
I knew it was best I shut

Mama was pouring Daddy coffee when she said, "Jacob, done seen the
body.  Why not let him ride over with you. don't have to see the body
again."

That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but if I could Daddy to let me
go, that would at least be a leg up.  Who what I could work from
there.

Daddy sighed.  He looked at Mama, who smiled.  Daddy "Well, I don't
know.  He's got chores."

"There ain't a lot to do this morning.  I can do it for Me and Tom."

"Tom will love that," Daddy said.

"Just let him ride over.  Won't hurt him none to know you do."

Mama was standing behind Daddy, a hand on his

She looked at me and gave a slow wink.

Daddy didn't say any more on the matter right then, neither did Mama,
and I had learned when he was at a bar of decision it was best to just
wait it out.  It meant his wasn't stone solid on a matter, but that
things were being side red  It could go either way.  If it went the way
I didn't I might beg, plead, or whine, but once his mind was truly up,
I could forget it.  There'd be no jumping that bar ditch.

Daddy finished a second cup of coffee, then had Mama him a third he
could take with him.  He looked at me,

fis lips, said, "You can go.  But you got to stay out of the way. You
ain't doin' nothing but tiding over and ridin' back, so get that in
your head."

"Yes sir," I said.

Mama buttered me up a large biscuit, wrapped it in a cloth we used for
a cup towel, poured me up another glass of butter milk, gave them to me
to eat on the way.  We went out to the Ford, Daddy started it, and we
were off.

It was exciting to ride in the car.  We didn't always use it. Saved gas
that way, and according to Daddy saved on the engine  Besides, lots
of places we wanted to go roads wouldn't take us there.  You had to go
on foot or by mule or wagon rut. But this day was a special day. 
"Cause not only would the road carry us to Pearl Creek, but I was with
Daddy and going on a trip of discovery.

The sun was starting to shine bright by the time we rolled out of the
yard, and while Daddy drove and tried to drink his coffee, I ate my
buttered biscuit, and for the first time began to feel that I had
stepped over the line of being a child, and into being a man.

It was a muddy trip, with the wet roads almost bogging us down a few
times, but finally we came to Pearl Creek.

Pearl Creek was a real creek, and the name source for the town.  The
creek was broad in spots and fast running, and the bed of it was rich
with white sand and a kind of pearl-colored gravel, hence the name.  It
was bordered by ancient and magnificent hickory trees and oaks,
twisty, droopy willows with Wrist-sized roots that worked out of the
ground, wound around on the banks, looked like snakes and provided
cover for the real thing.

On one side of the creek was the little town that was its namesake.  To
get there from our side, you had to cross

" row, wood slat bridge, and when you did, the slats neath car tires,
horse hooves, or wagon wheels like it breakingapart beneath you.

Pearl Creek was all colored, except for old Pappy who did not own but
operated the sawmill by method sons, and ran the post office drop and
the commissary aid of his wife.

Pappy had married a Negress and was scorned by the community, accepted
by the colored.  In years past the waited on him as he rode his horse
into town and they had him out, stripped and whipped him, cut off his
hair,

feathered him, shot his horse, run him into town on a rail between the
windows of two cars, and dropped him off in of the commissary.

Rumor was Pappy had probably not been lynched he had a relative in the
Klan.  Whatever the reason, the decided a whipping, tar and feathers
were enough.

back to living with the colored woman and from then

Klan left him alone.

Pappy had children near as white as he was.  It was a daughter had gone
up North to pass.  The others, though skinned, weren't white enough or
didn't care to be, and were boys: James, Jeremiah, and Root.  Two
named

Bible, and one, real name William, rumored to be for the size of his
equipment.  He was also addled in the and known to expose himself from
time to time.  There wasn't any malice in this, and he didn't expose
himself the intent to show anyone.  He just liked fondling his own
equipment, and he didn't have the brains to know it was against vent ion 
For this reason, Root was kept pretty much to community.  It was feared
he might go about his hobby in of white folks, and even if he didn't
know better, the end,:

suit might be a lynching.

Creek was all about lumber.  It was a sawmill corn and the sawmill and
the commissary were the world for The sawmill paid in money, but it
mostly paid in tokens could only be cashed at the commissary.  It was a
form of servitude.

land that was Pearl Creek had once been bottom land, though it had been
cleared of timber and built into a set town it was still soggy and
mosquitoes loved the place.  Daddy used to say there were skeeters over
there big enough icarry off a man and eat him and wear his shoes.

ilWe didn't pass another car that day, as there weren't that around in
that part of the country then, but we did pass men on horseback, a boy
walking, and three wagons drawn , mules.

Our car was like a rolling black beetle cooking in the sun, by the time
we crossed that little rickety bridge and arrived Pearl Creek, our
clothes were stuck to us and we were and water poor.

,": We stopped in front of the commissary.  It was a long tin roofed
building of weathered lumber with sheds out back.  We out and went over
to the community water pump.  This was the only place you could get
running waterin town, outside of the creek, and the sawmill ran dust
off in that, and no telling what else.  There were also a number of
outhouses along the edge of the creek, and though there were many who
believed long as water moved the mess along it was all right to drink,
Daddy was suspicious of such and warned me to not drink out of the
creek.

He said, "That ole stuff's got something' in it called microbes, Harry. 
They clingalong the bank and on the bottom, in the moss, on rocks and
such, and they get in the water and in you, and you get sick.  I ain't
never seen.a microbe.  But I don't doubt : they're there, smaller even
than seed ticks and chiggers."

The idea they could be microscopic was not something I

Joe g, Lansdale think Daddy could entirely comprehend.  He could
imagine small, but that small, probably not.

DaddY worked the pump for me.  I ducked my head and rubbed water over
my hands and arms.  Then Daddy his turn while I pumped.  Finished, he
took out a pocket carefully raked water from his short black hair,
parted it,

gave me the comb.  I made a few licks and gave it back to and we went
inside the commissary.

Daddy said, "Might as well grab a soda pop."

That was exactly what I wanted to hear.

The commissary was the center of Pearl Creek, like it,

in most sawmill towns, especially colored.  East Texas ways slow to get
a thing everyone else had.  It wasn't forties that I remember there
being electricity outside of and then not all towns.  Marvel Creek, as
I've said, had electricity, but that didn't expand or become common out
the town and countryside until some years later.

The Rural Electrification Administration strung the from house to
house, except for colored houses.  Some got electricity a year or two
behind everyone else, and never did get it.  If East Texas was last on
the list to get things everyone else already had, then the colored of
got whatever it was long after the whites, and then inferior version. 
Lincoln may have long freed the slaves the colored of that time were
not far off livingas they had before the Civil War.

Pappy ran a pretty good store.  There was most you needed from food
items to soda pops to furniture to for clothes and curtains, hardware
items, candles, soaps,

oils, coal oil, and gasoline.  I loved going in there to look smell the
smells.

Pappy Treesome was behind the counter drinkinga and eating on a
rough-cut slab of bologna when we came

When he saw Daddy he.  grinned.  Minus teeth and with a of bologna, it
wasn't a pretty picture.  I'd seen better-looking with hooks in them.

Daddy had known Pappy all his life, even before he mar-the Negress. 
Camilla was her name.  She was a big plump who did wash work for a
white family not far from Creek.  She also did midwifingand once
whipped two colmen with her fists on account of they had been picking

Root, talking him into exposing himself.  It was said they wanted to
see the amazing instrument after which he was but it made no
difference, Camilla didn't take kindly it.

Pappy scared me a little.  He was scarecrow lean with a of white hair
that stood up like porcupine quills.  Once a while he wore store-bought
teeth, but they clicked and and slid around when he talked, as if they
might have place to go and were anxious to get there.  Therefore, he
went toothless.

Another thing was the way he moved.  He lunged and jerked about, as if
invisible strings were tied to him and he were beingat random in two
or three directions.  Looking back, I suppose he had some kind of
neurological or muscle ailment, but at the time he was said to have the
jitters.

There were a few cane chairs thrown around a potbelly stove made from
an oil drum, and after Daddy bought us Co'-Colas and popped the bottle
tops with an opener, we sat there, drank, and relaxed a moment.  The
stove wasn't lit that time of year, but the log door was open and I
could see ashes and bits of paper and peanut hulls customers had tossed
inside.  The commissary even without the lit stove, was hot and
oppressive with the tin roof gathering in and holding the heat like an
oven. If you didn't move too fast, got down low in your chair, and
sucked slowly at your pop, it was almost pleasant.

Pappy came over.  I said a polite hello, then tried not to look at him
while I drank my Co'-Cola.

"Dey zay ooo god u ded gul in dub eyezouse, cozda Pappy said, flapping
his lips all over the place.

"That's right," Daddy said.  He amazed me with his ab to understand
Pappy Treesome.  "It wasn't supposed to be mort knowledge, but I guess
that's too much to expect."

"Ron ere dis," Pappy said, and went over to wait on t colored woman in
a dress made of hand-dyed flour sacks i inga cardboard hat with
colorful paper flowers on the cro

We drank our Co'-Colas, and Daddy walked around a looking at the
furniture we couldn't afford, then he asked P if we could buy some
gas.

Pappy took us out back to a pump in a shed, unlockeff pump with a key,
worked the handle, and filled a large tinct can.  Daddy poured the gas
in the car, told me to take the back to Pappy.

When I came back, Daddy was sitting behind the wt woolgathering.  I
realized then that he had been dragging heels, looking at this and that
in the store, getting gas may not have really needed it, just plain old
stalling, noting to do what it was he was about to do.

Daddy sighed, started up the Ford, drove on around thei tie mud-rutted
square, dotted here and there by buildings,"

stilts, or piles as they were sometimes called.  This was, of co
designed to keep out the water when the creek rose.  Mostl ,

buildings were homes and had gardens or hog pens out be .s them, but
there was a office that said PEARL CREEK STAND"

on it, and a lawyer shingle and a sign that said DENrlsr.

was also a barbershop with a red and white pole out

Although the sawmill was full of working men, many them with no more
than three fingers, some missing hands, th

|

were plenty didn't have work, and they were milling about sitting on
porch steps or in chairs.  Most were gathered at colored barbershop,
like crows on a fence.  They dressed in o and straw or felt hats,
worn-out work shoes with laughing

S.

Old black women, some in dresses, some in overalls and like the men,
were also visible.  Kids ran about splashing falling and sliding,
screaming off toward the creek.

We stopped at a whitewashed house with a well-tended bed on one side, a
little patch of garden fenced in with chicken wire on the other.  In
the garden were a dozen or so staked tomatoes, a few stalks of corn, a
row of beans, a couple rows of peas, and four big white pat tie squash
that deserved flouting and frying.  Four banty hens and a rooster were
scratching about in the dirt near the garden, and a yellow dog, that
looked as if it had just completed some kind of race, lay on its i side
panting from the heat.

As we got out of the car the dog moved its tail a few times, then
stopped, lest it wear itself out with enthusiasm.  The chickens
scattered, and when we were on the porch, they converged again on the
spot they had just abandoned, pecking away at nothing I could see,
besides dirt.

On a hill barren of trees I could see and hear the sawmill grinding
away as the mules worked the saws and the saws gnawed logs into lumber.
Sawdust flowed down the hill and into the creek.  The dust closest to
the mill was butternut colored the older stuff, black and sludgy with
age; it slid into the creek where it heaped up and was washed slowly
away by " the water.

Daddy took off his hat, knocked on the door and a moment later it
opened.  A plump colored lady in a tight-fitting blue dress stood
looking out.

"I'm Constable Collins.  Your husband is expecting me."

"Yes suh, he is.  Come on in."

Inside, the house smelled pleasantly of pinto beans cooking It was
neat with simple furniture, some of it store-bought,

most of it handmade from rough lumber and apple crates.  There

Jao R. Lansdale was a shelf of books on the wall.  The most books I had
seen collected together at one time, and perhaps the most seen in my
life.  Some were fiction, but most were books philosophy and
psychology.  I didn't know that at the time, : many of the titles
stayed with me, and years later I what they were.

The wood slat floor looked to have been freshly and smelled faintly of
oil.  There was a painting on the was of a blue vase of yellow flowers
sitting on a table window that showed the moon hung in the sky next to
a cloud.

The house looked a lot nicer than our place.  I guessed to ring even
for a colored doctor, wasn't such a bad make a living.

"Jcs sc use me for a moment so I can see I can find the lady said, and
went away.

Daddy was looking the place over too,.  and I saw move in his throat, a
sadness cross over his face, then the came back and said: "Doctor
Tinn's out back.  He's waitin':

you, Constable.  This yo boy?"

Daddy said I was.

"Ain't he just the best-lookin' little snapper.  How're Little Man?"

That was the same thing Miss Maggie called me, Little "Fine, ma'am."

"Oh, and he's got such good manners.  Come on back, y'all?"

She led us through the back door and down some There was a clean white
building out back of the house, we went inside.  We stood in a stark
white room with a desk and smelled some kind of pine oil disinfectant. 
There a maple wood chair behind it with a suit coat draped There were
some wooden file cabinets, another shelf of this one half the size of
the one in the house, and a row chairs.  There was a painting similar
to the one in the on the wall.  It was of a riverbank, rich with dark
soil shadowed by trees, and between the trees a long thin shadow the
river.

The lady called out, "Doctor Tinn."

A door opened and out came a large colored man, older than wiping his
hands on a towel.  He wore black suit pants, white shirt, and a black
tie.  "Mister Constable," he said.  But didn't offer to shake hands. 
You didn't see that much, a col man and a white man shaking hands.

Daddy stuck out his hand, and Dr.  Tinn, surprised, slung the over his
shoulder, and they shook.

"I suppose you know why I'm here?"  Daddy said.

"I do," Dr.  Tinn said.

Standing next to him, I realized just how large Dr.  Tinn was. He must
have been six four, and very wide-shouldered.  He had his hair cut
short and had a mustache faint as the edge of a straight razor.  You
had to really pay attention to see he had it.  see y' all met my wife,"
Dr.  Tinn said. "Well, not formally," Daddy said. "This here's Mrs. 
Tinn," Dr.  Tinn said. Mrs.  Tinn smiled and went away.

Daddy and Mama called each other by their first names, but it wasn't
unusual then for husband and wife to use formal ad dress to one
another, at least in front of folks.  Still, since it

Wasn't something I was accustomed to, it seemed odd to me. "Have you
looked at the body?"  Daddy asked.

"No.  I was waitin' on you.  I thought instead of totin' her, We'd go
on over to the icehouse for a look.  Do what we gonna

'do there.  I got some things I need, then we'll go.  And I'll need you
to tell me where the body was found.  Give me some of the
background."

"All right," Daddy said.

:

Dr.  Tinn paused.  "What about the boy?"

Joe g. Lansdale

"He's gonna be on his own for a while," Daddy said. My heart sunk.

"Well then," Doc Tinn said, taking his dark suit coat off back of the
chair.  "Let's go."

he icehouse was a big worn-out-looking barn of a place with peeling
paint that had once been white but was now gray.  It had a narrow front
porch of new lumber, the only new lumber on the building.

I knew that inside the icehouse would be lined with sawdust. Big blocks
of ice would be stacked about.  There would be a table for cutting up
slabs of ice with a saw, and a scale to weigh it, and a chute to send
it down into wagon or truck beds.  The ice would be so cold if you put
your hand on it, it would burn you, and cause the flesh to stick.

And there was the body.  The body I'd found.

As we came to the icehouse, Daddy said, I'll be damned." Sitting on the
porch, dressed in a dusty white suit with mud splashed on his shoes and
pants legs, fanning himself with his straw hat, was Doc Stephenson.

There was a flat bottle of dark liquid on the porch beside him, and
when he saw Daddy he took a swig of it and put it down.  Doc Stephenson
had a mouth that looked as if it did not Want to open wide, lest tacks
and nails fall out.  His eyes made

Jae g. Lansdale you uncomfortable, like they were looking for a place
to a knife.

"What's he doin' here?"  Daddy asked Dr.  Tinn.

"Can't say as I know, suh," Dr.  Tinn said.

"You don't need to sir me," Daddy said.  "I won't sir you don't sir
me."

"Yes suh... Very well, Constable."

At that moment, Doc Taylor came walking toward the house.  He was
carry inga Dr.  Pepper and some sort of from Pappy's place.  He looked
sharp in his clothes,

were a little more special than we were used to seeing.

well-made slacks, the cuffs of which he had somehow aged to keep clear
of mud, though with the shoes he had succeeded.  He wore a clean white
shirt that was so s,

looking it seemed to be made of angel wings.  He had thin black tie
that glistened like the wet back of a water and his soft black felt hat
was cocked at a jaunty angle made him look more like he was going to a
dance than amine a mutilated body.  I wondered if he had on his with
the dented coin attached.

"That there's Doc Taylor," Daddy said to Doc Tinn.

what I think they call an intern.  He's with Stephenson he's thinkin'
about retirin', and he thought he'd get to folks so he could take his
place.  He's a little dandy, but seems all right to me."

"I doubt he wants to know us folks," Doc Tinn said.

"I suppose you're right," Daddy said.  "Let's get this with, then."

Daddy turned to me, gave me a pat on the head, said,

you later, Harry."

Dejected, I wandered up the street a ways, turned,

back at the icehouse, watched Daddy and Doc Tinn go with Doc
Stephenson.

i',

It was confusing to me.  I had heard Daddy say the want anything to do
with the body because it was colbut here he was, away from his office,
down in colored for a looksee.  And he had Doc Taylor with him.

I was thinking on all this when I heard a squeaking behind me, turned
to see an ancient, legless, colored man in a cart covered by a willow
stick and tarp roof, drawn by a big glossy hog fastened up in a leather
harness.  The old man was bald and his scalp was wrinkled like a
leather bag that had been wadded up and smoothed out by hand.  He could
have hidden a pencil in the wrinkles on his face.  There wasn't a tooth
in his head.  He looked much older than Miss Maggie.  In fact, she was
a girl compared to him.

He carried a thin green willow stick he was using to tap the hog on the
hind quarters.  The hog was grunting, trundling along at a pretty good
gate.  Walking beside the old man and his cart were two boys about my
age, one colored, one white. Their clothes were even more worn-looking
than mine.  The colored boy's pants were gone at the knee and there
wasn't any attempt there to hold patches.  The white kid's pants were
gone at one knee, and there was a cotton sack patch there that had been
multi dyed by life, most likely the dye consisting of grass stains,
clay roads, dirty riverbanks, and berry stains.

I noticed folks that had been standing around were edging toward the
icehouse, congregating outside of it like a bunch of blackbirds on a
limb.  I realized then the body in the icehouse wasn't much of a
secret.

The old man in the hog-drawn cart pulled up beside me.  He looked at me
with his rheumy eyes and opened his toothless mouth to say: "How're
you, little white boy?"

"I'm fine, sir."

The truth of the matter was he scared me.  I had never seen anyone that
looked that old, and certainly no one in that cirCumstance, minus legs and drawn about in a cart by a hog.

The white boy who had been walking along with him

"I'm Richard Dale.  I live on down the bottoms."

Richard Dale was a little older than me, I think.

jaw, ripe of lips, with a nose that we used to call

Some smart alecks used to say, "Yeah.  It roams all over face."

I told him I lived in the bottoms too, explained my part the country. 
His part of the bottoms was on the other side me.  His section was
called the Sandy Bottoms, because was more white sand there than where
we lived, which was with red clay and brown dirt.

The colored boy with him introduced himself as

He looked very energetic, as if he had been drinking lotsi coffee and
was expecting something big to happen, like a nado, a flood, or
tripping over a boxful of money.

Beingall of the same general age, quick to bore, and the tired of
adults, we were immediate friends.

Abraham said, "Me and Ricky got some cards with women on 'em."

"But we ain't got 'em with us," Richard hastened to

' lest I might ask for him to lay them out for examination.

"Yeah," Abraham said, disappointed.  "They in the and it ain't nowhere
near here.  We got nigger shooters can shoot a tin can at maybe thirty
feet."

A "nigger shooter" was a word for a slingshot made of tongue, tire
rubber, and a forked stick.  The name was and Abraham had said it
without shame or consideration.

"We hear they's a body in there," Abraham added.

got murdered."

I couldn't contain myself.  "I found the body."

:

"Say you did," Abraham said.  "Naw.  Naw you didn't.

I.

pullin' our leg."

"Did too.  That's my Daddy in there.  He's the constable our parts."

"This ain't his con stabling here," the old man in the hog cart

He could hear right good.  I figured he'd heard us talking those cards
with naked women on them, and I was em Richard Dale said, "That's Uncle
Pharaoh.  He got his legs up and cut off 'cause of a wild hog.  Hog is
Pig Jesse.  That the wild hog.  That's a tame one."

"I'm sorry," I said to the old man.

He looked at me like I was some sort of strange vegetable he had never
seen before.  "Sorry 'bout what?"  he said. "Your legs."

"Oh," he said.  "Well, don't be.  Didn't happen yesterd'y.  I done got
over it."

"Where'd you find that body?"  Abraham asked, and I told all three of
them the story.  I finished with: "I thought since I found it and done
seen it, Daddy might let me look again and hear what the doctor's got
to say about it, but he wouldn't do it."

"That's the way it always is," Richard said.  "Adults think they got to
know everything and we ain't supposed to know or see nothin'.  Hey, you
want to go off and play?" "No," I said.  "I think I'll wait here."
Richard winked at me.  "Let's play."

Abraham was smiling, and I wondered what it was they were after.  I
hoped they didn't want to smoke grapevine, or even tobacco 'cause I
never liked either a bit.  Times I had tried they had made my stomach
sick.

Richard leaned over close and said, "Me and Abraham kow something' you
might like to know about that body.  Come with us."

I thought on that, but only for a second.  They told Uncle Pharaoh
goodbye, and I went running with them, away from

the crowd, toward the creek.  They led me along the edge of the creek
and up behind the icehouse to where the big tree grew.

Richard whispered: "Me and Abraham we know thing there is to know about
over here.  There's a big the roof up there, right over the front room,
where they the ice out.  There's a piece of tin over it, but it'll
twist and you can see in.  If you don't twist it too much, they notice
'cause the tree shades that spot.  Won't be a sunlight slippin' in. 
"Sides, there's all sorts of cracks in roof anyway.  Little sunlight
here and there won't be none."

"What if they ain't in that room?"  I said.

"Then they ain't," Abraham said.  "But what if they

Richard led the way up the chinaberry tree, Abraham him, and me
following up last.  The chinaberry was a big and several of the limbs
branched over the top of the

We climbed out on those and onto the roof.  Richard along the roof to a
spot in the shingles with a tin used his hand to push the patch back. 
Cold air came up the icehouse and hit us in the face, and it felt good.
 Above

" the clouds had turned dark, as if filling up with shadow our cause.

We looked out at the crowd.  Most of them could see

Some of them waved.  I thought: Boy, am I gonna be in

But it was worth the gamble.  These folks had no reason to my Daddy
anything.  They didn't even know him.  And like colored, they pretty
much minded their own business came to whites.

There wasn't nothing to see at first, but we could hear talking.  I
recognized Doc Stephenson's voice.  He sounded and drunk.  Just when I
was getting cold feet, and thinking climbing down, Richard put his hand
on my shoulder, and view came two colored men carry inga long,
narrow,

tub packed with ice and, of course, the body.

The corpse was covered with a big burlap sack, and soon they set it
down on the ice-cutting table, they removed the and I got a good
look.

Bt

Looking down on it, I felt strange.  It was the same body had found
that night.  But it had seemed ten feet tall and teri'tible then.  Now
it was small a, nd bloated and sad-looking, and il. suddenly a person. 
Someone s spirit had inhabited that body it had been alive and had
eaten and laughed and had plans. Now it was a pathetic shell of wasting
flesh, minus a soul.  I either smelled, or imagined I could smell, the
decaying odor of the body rising up with the cold from the icehouse's
interior.

In that moment, something eIse changed for me.  I realized that a
person could truly die.  Daddy and Mama could die.  I could die.  We
would all someday die.  Something went hollow inside me, shifted, found
a place to lie down and be still, if not entirely in comfort.

Her head was tilted back and slightly submerged in chunks

:" of ice.  The mouth was open, and missing teeth.  Many of the
remaining teeth were jagged or broken, and I immediately realized they
had been knocked out.  The woman's breasts were split open and laid
back and the blood had gone gray and was frozen.

For the first time I was see inga woman's privates, but there was
really nothing to see.  Just a triangle of darkness.  The poor woman's
knees were slightly bent and she lay with her left hip down and her
right hip up.  Her hands were out to her sides and cupped into claws. 
Her face was hard to make out.  Things had been done to it.  There were
rips in her body where the barbed wire had torn it.  There were cuts
all over.

Doc Stephenson, sucking from his flask, wobbled over to the body and
looked down.  He said, "Now that is one dead darkie."

The colored men who had toted the body out in the gal va

Jne B. I.aasdale nized tub looked at the floor.  Doc Stephenson punched
the on his right with his elbow, said, "Ain't it, boy?"

The man lifted his chin slightly, and without looking Stephenson
directly, said, "Yas suh, she sho is."

It embarrassed me to see that colored man have to that.  He was big and
strong and could have pulled Doc son's head off.  But if he had, he
would have been from a limb before nightfall, and maybe his entire any
other colored who just happened to be in sight Klan came riding.

Stephenson knew that.  White folks knew that.  It gave a lot of room.

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Abraham.  The ] on his face
had gone from boyish excitement to one I quite identify.

Daddy moved to look at the body then, and said to Stephenson, "I
thought you couldn't look at the body?

"Not in town.  Wouldn't a white person within a miles have anything to
do with me they knew I was colored into my place.  A decent white woman
sure want to be examined in no place like that.  No offense, but
colored and white need their separation, Even the Bible us that.  Hell,
you boys are happier when you don't have worries we do.  You're lucky,
is what you are... Taylor told me I ought to have a look.  That we
ought to come out help you boys."

Doc Taylor grinned shyly; the dampness on his teeth the lamplight and
made them shine.

Doc Tinn had not stepped forward.  He stood slightly of Daddy and Doc
Stephenson, his head down, not quite ing what to do with his hands,
though I had an idea what like to do.

Doc Taylor stood at the end of thetable, looking at the calmly, taking
it all in.

Doc

Stephenson looked the body over, touched it, moved it said, "Looks to
me a wild hog got her."

"Then tied her with barbed wire to a tree?"  Daddy said. Doc Stephenson
looked at Daddy as if he were an idiot.  "I

before she was tied to the tree."

"You say inga hog killed her?"

"I'm saying it could be like that.  They got tusks like knives. 'we
seen them do some bad things to flesh."

"Doctor Tinn," Daddy said.  "Do you know this woman?"

Doc Tinn came forward, looked the body over.  "I don't think so.  I've
sent for the Reverend Bail, though.  He's supposed to be here
already."

"What'd you do that for?"  Doc Stephenson said.

"He knows most everybody in these parts," Doc Tinn said. "I thought he
might could identify her."

"Hell, how you tell one colored woman from another is hard for me to
figure," Doc Stephenson said.  "I wouldn't think you boys could keep up
with your wives.  "Course, maybe you don't try to."

Stephenson laughed as if everyone were in on the joke.  He had no idea
he was being rude.  He believed so strongly that colored and white were
truly different at the core, he thought it was evident to everyone.

I could see Doc.Tinn's shoulders shaking.  Doc Taylor's expression
changed slightly.  He glanced at the floor briefly, then looked up
again, focusing on the body.

Doc Stephenson said, "Now that I look at her better, I think a panther
did it."

"A panther ain't any more prone to tying bodies to trees with barbed
wire than a hog," Daddy said.  I saw Doc Tinn's face change slightly. 
He had liked that.

"I know that," Doc Stephenson said, and his tone was sharper

than before.  "What I'm suggestin' is she was killed by a panther
then someone else came along, some colored boys, tied her to a tree."

"What for?"  Daddy asked.

"For fun.  Why not?  You was a boy once.  You ever something' foolish,
Constable?"

"Lots of times.  But I wouldn't have done nothing like and I don't know
any boys would."

"Maybe not white boys.  And listen here now, Tinn, I mean nothin' by
it.  I know you.  You're all right.  But and whites is different.  You
know that.  Down deep you Hell, there's things that a colored can't
help, and I think are wrong to hold every little thing you coloreds do
a you.  Boys wouldn't have meant nothing by it.  It'd just be thin' to
do.  You know, like find inga dead fish and drag around."

"A dead fish ain't a woman," Daddy said.

"Yeah, but don't you think a couple little colored boys have a pretty
good time playin' with a naked colored gal?"

"Doc," Daddy said.  "You been drinkin'.  Why don't you somewhere and
get sober."

"I'm all right."

Doc Taylor, who had been silent, said, "Doctor, maybe have had a bit
too much to drink.  I ought to get you

"What for," Doc Stephenson said.  "Nothin' there."

I had heard how his wife had up and ran off from him, since he always
seemed mean as a snake to me, I couldn't I blamed her.

"You could rest," Doc Taylor said.

"I can rest fine right here, anywhere I want to."

I saw Doc Taylor look at Daddy and shake his head, as to indicate he
was sorry.

"I don't want you here," Daddy said.  "Go somewhere get sober."

"What'd you say?"

"I don't stutter.  Go somewhere and get sober."

"You talkin' to me like that in front of these colored boys?" "These
men haven't been boys in years.  And I'm just talkin'

to you, period."

"This ain't your jurisdiction no how."

"Did I say anything about arresting you?  Now get on your horse and
ride."

"I got a car."

"It's an expression, you jackass."

"Jackass.  You callin' me a jackass?"

Daddy turned and moved close to Doc Stephenson.  "I am. I'm callin' you
a jackass.  Straight to your face.  Right now.  Here. Ain't it bad
enough we got a woman's been murdered, and not by no goddamn panther
neither.  Ain't that bad enough?  We ain't supposed to be quarrelin'
over her poor dead body.  Get out before I put you out on the end of my
shoe."

"Well, I never..."

"Right now.  Go.  Taylor, get him out of here."

Doc Taylor touched Doc Stephenson's arm, and Stephenson jerked it away.
 "I don't need no damn seem' eye dog."

Doc Stephenson, perhaps trying to show some defiance, took a big swig
of his whiskey and wobbled off toward the door. Just before goin' out
he turned and said, "I ain't forgettin' you, Constable."

"Well, I almost done forgot you, and will, quick as you go out that
door."

Doc Stephenson hesitated, then said, I'll just leave you then. See what
you can learn from that boy.  I can't believe they even give the title
Doctor to a colored.  You ain't no doctor to me, nigger.  You hear
me?"

"Come on," Doc Taylor said.

"You leave me alone," Doc Stephenson said.

And out the door he went.

I looked at Richard, then Abraham.  They both had big grins

Joe B. tans dale on their faces.  We looked back down through the split
in roof.

"Sorry about him," Doc Taylor said.  "His wife run off him.  He ain't
got over it yet."

"He's not the kind that will."

"I talked him into coming," Doc Taylor said.  "I thou could help.  And
I guess I was curious."

"I appreciate you," Daddy said.  "You better take him."

It was polite, but it was clear Daddy wanted Doc Taylor of the icehouse
too.

"Yeah," Doc Taylor said, and left.

Daddy said, "Doctor, would you like to examine and me your opinion on
the patient?"

"Yes, I would," Dr.  Tinn said.

He set his bag on the edge of thetable and opened it. said, "Billy
Ray, light me up a lantern, would you?"

Billy Ray, one of the colored men who had carried body in, lit a
lantern and brought it over to thetable, as it pretty dark inside the
icehouse.  The only other light was from cracks in the roof and from a
few breaks in the siding.

The lantern made the room glow orange.  Doc Tinn the lantern handle on
a hook that hung from a rafter over table.  When he did that we moved
back from our place at hole, waited, then slid our faces back.  I
was. afraid we'd a shadow that would cause them to look up and see us,
but chinaberry limbs hanging over us, and that cloud across the there
wasn't a noticeable change.  Least I wasn't aware of And the bottom
line was curiosity ate up caution.

Doc Tinn pulled on a pair of big rubber gloves and the body with his
big fingers.  He took off the gloves, lit a held it close to her mouth
and looked inside.  He waved match out, slipped on the gloves again,
stuck a finger down and worked it.  He came up with a little something
on his wiped that on a cloth he took out of his bag.  He stuck up her
nostrils, worked it around, wiped what he found the same rag, then
folded it.

He said, "I'm gonna have to cut on her to see the inside of stomach."

"The inside of her stomach?"  Daddy said.

Doc

Tinn nodded.  "I ain't maybe had the school in' Doc on's had, but I got
my hunches."

"Well," Daddy said, "I know for a fact Doc Stephenson his doctor'n out
of a book and he did his first doctor'n horses and cows."

Doc Tinn grinned.  "So did I."

Daddy grinned back, said, "Go on and do what you got to

"This won't be pretty."

Daddy, less humored now, nodded.  "I know."

Doc Tinn took a tool from his bag, a scalpel, began cut at the woman's
chest and down to her navel.  I thought at I was gonna lose my
breakfast, but I was just too mes to turn away.  Doc Stephenson wasn't
entirely wrong. cs were fascinated by a dead body, but not in the way
he suggested.

The cutting was odd in that there wasn't any blood.  She was dead and
pretty well frozen, but there was a hint of gas rose up from the corpse
and through the slit in the roof.  It made me feel sick for a moment,
then it passed.

I squinted when he started handling the sweet meats inside

Finally he cut open something, reached in with his hand, look out some
dark things, and put them on thetable.

I turned away for a moment, saw that Richard and Abra were still
looking.  I didn't want to be thought a weak sis so I looked again.

Doc Tinn had Daddy open the front door to let in some

Jee g. Lansdale more light.  There were people out by the porch and to
run 'em off.  They moved away reluctantly.  They were ing up at us on
the roof, but no one spilled the beans.  I

they were glad someone was gettinga look.

Doc Tinn went to work on the woman's privates, cut, around down there
for a while, and Daddy moved across room with the other two men.

This went on for some time, and finally the doctor rolled the body
over, looked at it, rolled it on its back said, "Billy Ray.  Will you
or Cyrus bring me a pan of and some soap and a towel?"

Both Billy Ray and Cyrus went away.  Doc Tinn his gloves and lay them
on thetable.  He said, "Now this is my opinion, mind you."

"I appreciate it," Daddy said, walking up to stand him.  "Go on."

"Wasn't no wild hog nor a panther done this."

"I never thought it was.  Panthers don't normally attack pie.  It could
happen, but it ain't normal."

"Panther.  Wild hog.  They don't work a body like how.  This was a man
done it."

"I figured as much."

"Used a real sharp knife.  These cuts was made while was alive. 
Mostly.  But some was after.  Look at her hands Doc Tinn reached down
and took hold of one, lifted it, it so Daddy could see.  "There's cuts
on 'em, like she was to fend the fellow off.  Also there's fingernail
wounds.  This he did most of this while she was alive.  See how she's
her own nails into her palms, trying to deal with the pain. a stab here
on her back, and a slash at the kidney area. of these are deep, 'cept
for the stab.  It's pretty deep, and it twisted to be pulled out.  I
think she tried to fight him off, had a knife, he slashed at her, she
put up her hands, they cut, she turned to run, he stabbed her in the
back, then or maybe the other way around.  She went down, and from the
looks of the way she's been used.."  you know, down she was raped. 
She's all tom up, so she was forced.

He got through with that, he cut on her some while she was alive.  Her
clitoris is missing."

"Her what?"  Daddy asked.

"It's down there with her private parts.  You rub it on a live woman
and they get really excited." "Yeah?"  Daddy said. "Yeah."

Doc Tinn said, "It's a little hub and it rolls under your thumb or
finger.  It's a th inga man ought to know, you know what I mean."

Daddy nodded again, as if contemplatinga great mystery, or rather
common information that had somehow been denied him.  I filed it away
in my own file cabinet, though at the time

I wasn't sure it was something I'd ever need.

Daddy said, "He cut it off?  This eli..."

"Clitoris.  Did it just as precise as could be.  And from the looks of
the wound she bled good.  Probably still alive through that too, though
I don't know for sure.  Lot of the other cuts and slashes and such I
think he did after he choked her to death."

Doc Tinn leaned over thetable.  "See her throat there.  Those bruises.
Them are from hands.  He finished up with her, I think he threw her in
the river."

"How would you know that?"

"Well, I can't say for sure, but there ain't no river in her lungs, so
she didn't drown.  I know a little about drownings. Flood five years
ago there was twenty-five people drowned.  I seen what it did to
bodies."

"Twenty-five people?"  Daddy said.  "Five years ago.  I don't remember
anything about that."

"Wasn't none of 'em white," Doc Tinn said.

"Oh," Daddy said.

"This woman was dead when she was thrown in.

all kinds of scrapes on her forehead there, and there was a of gravel
in one of her eyes, lodged in the corner there.

gravel.  Body thrown in a river will mostly go face down,

the current will drag it along and scrape it up, like it's done her
forehead there.  There was bits of river in her mouth,

and nose, but not in her lungs, so I figure she was dead ready."

"Makes sense," Daddy said.  "But if he threw her in the how does that
account for her being tied to that tree?"

"Well now, Doctor Stephenson may be kinda right. one got the body out
of the river and cut on it some more. her breasts are all cut up there,
that was done afterward. can tell 'cause there ain't no real blood
wound.  He was on a corpse."

"Jesus Christ."

"Then he tied her to that tree with barbed wire, way said your boy
found her.  Wrapped some vines around her such, and left her there.  I
wouldn't be surprised he came a few times and messed with the body. 
Your boy hadn't it, he might have come back some more.  I think he
have."

"You couldn't know that?"

"No.  But like I said, some of them wounds was after It might have been
done in one trip, but they're some with got eggs in them, and some not
so many.  The maggots was. getting' started in some of them wounds when
your boy it and you got her down before they was thick.  Maggots just
work one wound at a time.  Flies get all over them lay eggs in them. 
Ones wasn't packed with eggs was there wasn't time for 'em to."

Daddy considered on this for a moment.  "Like you though.  Stephenson
could have been right.  It could have else found the body and did those
things.  It don't mean it here was just one fella did it all."

"Uh huh, but what do you think?  What's your gut tell you,

Man did this in the first place is the more likely to do it some more. 
I think he threw her away, like she was garbage,

her in the river, but then figured he hadn't got his fill, : onae back,
got her out, and did the rest."

"How would he know where to find her?  She could have downriver."

"She could have.  But I figure he threw her in there, tied her out like
a trot line.  Look here.  You see this around her ankle.  See that
friction.  I think after he killed her he tied a rope around her and
tossed her out.  Maybe had some kind of weight tied to her.  That way
he knew where to find her.  And just for the record, on her butt there,
I think that's a turtle been nibblin'."

The sun came out from behind its cloud and it was bright enough to burn
right through the leaves on the chinaberry tree, giving our immediate
world a shade of green.  I could see the shapes of our heads move
across the woman's body On thetable, and Daddy looked up as we pulled
our heads back.

We didn't look again.  We just sat there listening.  Doc Tinn said,
"You know ain't no one here gonna worry about her none." I didn't hear
Daddy respond.  Doc Tinn continued.

"She's colored, but colored over here don't want no trouble. If it's
one of our own did it, and we find out who it is, Well, it'll get taken
care of.  We tell the whites a colored did it,

Well, ain't no tellin' who all will pay."

"Could be a white man done it."

"Even better reason colored won't get involved."

"Can you see to it she gets a proper burial, and let me know

"I can.  We got a graveyard that'll let anyone in."

Joe g. Lansdale

"Yep.  Dirt ain't particular."

"Nor the worms," Doc Tinn said.  "And one other He pulled a long pair
of tweezer things out of his bag:. picked something up lying between
the woman's legs.

I went to work down there, this fell out.  It was pushed her."

"What is it?"

"It looks like paper.  It's so bloody and wet, there's no now, but
that's what it looks like."

"He stuck paper up her?"

"Rolled up a small piece and put it there," Doc Tinn "Whyg"

Doc Tinn shook his head.  "It means something to couldn't begin to tell
you what."

We heard someone else come in, speak, and I

was the Reverend arriving.  After greetings, I heard the ere nd say in a
high voice, "Uh huh.  Oh, my God.  That be May.  Jelda May Sykes.  She
was a harlot, but she come now and then to talk to me.  She was always
wantin' to do fe rent and get salvation, but couldn't.  She worked them
joints way down yonder on the river.  Take in both white trade I hear. 
She did some conjurin'."

"Conjurin' ?"  Daddy asked.

"She worked the juju.  Magic spells and such." "You don't believe
that?"  Daddy said.  "You, a man of

"Wasn't all bad spells she worked," Reverend said. poor thing.  Good
Lord!  Who cut her up like that?"

"Some of it was done by whoever killed her," Doc said, "and some I did
as way of examination.  Checkin' the of death."

"Ain't nothing like that need to be done after someone had the
indignities of death.  Good Lord, what a mess.  You not have done
that."

"You know what kind of animal you're hunting',"

"How it lives, how it kills, you got a better chance of him."

"Lord, poor Jelda May," the Reverend said.  "She better off

She in a better place."

"I hope you're right," I heard Doc Tinn say.  Then me and newfound pals
eased toward the chinaberry tree and started

1.

y the time we hit the ground and got around front, the was starting to
break up.  Folks were mumbling forth, mad 'cause they hadn't learned
anything, and the ored man, Uncle Pharaoh, was moving his pig cart
commissary with, "Now get on, Pig Jesse."

"I got to go catch up," Abraham said when he Pharaoh.  "He gonna need
some help with some such."

"I'm with them," Richard said.  "It was nice Harry," and they went
away.

I felt abandoned and full of guilt.  Daddy had told a certain thing,
and that was wait.  I told myself that I had but I knew I was splitting
hairs.  I had waited on the the icehouse and seen what I wasn't
supposed to see;

I wasn't supposed to hear.  I didn't always do as told, but how, this
time, I felt as if I had transgressed beyond ness.

I tried to look innocent as Daddy, Doc Tinn, and the ere nd came out.  I
had not seen the Reverend enter, but him.  He was a tall, very lean
colored man with a flat nose a look like someone waiting on something
bad to happen could talk salvation.  He wore black pants and shoes and
shirt with yellow sweat stains under the arms.  He had a thin black tie
that looked to be fraying about the edges he was putting on a soft
brown felt hat as he came out of icehouse.  The hat had a little bright
red and green feather the brim on the left side.

As they came down the steps, Daddy, slipping on his hat,

over at me, and though he didn't say anything, his gaze me nervous.  At
the bottom of the icehouse steps Daddy the Reverend something, turned
to Doc Tinn and extended hand.  Doc Tinn, still unaccustomed to such,
stuck out his quickly and they shook.

"I want to thank you for your help," Daddy said.  "I may be to you
again."

"It's all just opinion, Constable," Doc Tinn said.

"It sounded like reasonable opinion to me," Daddy said."  "Thank you,
kindly, Constable."

They talked a little more with the Reverend.  I saw Daddy in his pocket
and hand the preacher something, but I

make it out.  Then he shook hands with him, turned and called to me.
"Son, let's go."

We walked over to Doc Tinn's house, ahead of the Doc, got our car, and
drove over to the commissary.  Uncle Pharaoh around front, sitting in
his cart in the shade of his willow burlap sack cover, drink inga Dr. 
Pepper.  His hog, Jesse,

lying in the dirt with the cart posts and straps still on him. had his
head just under the porch in the shade and was away, eating some old
moldy bread.

"Now that's a hog," Daddy said to Uncle Pharaoh.

"Mr.  Constable, how you doin'?"

Uncle Pharaoh knew my Daddy.  My heart sank.  Would he mention that me
and Abraham and Richard had climbed of the icehouse?

"How the world treatin' you, Mr.  Constable?"

"Fair enough," Daddy said.  "And you?"

"I could complain, but it wouldn't do no good." Daddy and Uncle Pharaoh
exchanged a small lau Daddy lifted his hand as if to wave Uncle Pharaoh
he couldn't handle such powerful humor that time of

We went inside the commissary.  I said, "You know "Son, wasn't it
obvious I did?" "Yes sir."

"He used to be the greatest hunterin all these bottoms a wild hog tore
up his leg.  It's a critter they call Old wanders these here bottoms. 
Big old boar hog.  And ain't ever been able to kill him.  He's mainly
over here on of the county.  "Round here and over toward Mud Creek.

I started to ask if what Doc Stephenson had said wild hog tearing up
that woman could be possible, when myself.

"Sure are lots of towns named after creeks," I said.. "Yeah," Daddy
said.

Abraham and Richard were inside getting groceries for Uncle Pharaoh. 
They spoke to me and Daddy as we in, then went on about their
business.

Daddy bought us a slab of bologna, a box of crackers, rat cheese, and a
couple Co'-Colas.  We sat on the front . of the commissary where it was
cooler and watched Jesse with his nose in the shade and Uncle Pharaoh
nurse his per.  Daddy used his pocketknife to slice up the meat and and
he laid them out on the butcher paper they had come in.  We ate the
meat and cheese with the crackers and pops.  Wagons rattled by with
fresh-cut lumber in them. We sat quietly for a time, then Daddy said,
"Son." "Yes sir."

g9

prefer you do as I ask.  You get to be a grown man, you do as you
please.  Long as it's within the law and within law, but as a boy, you
do as I ask."

So he had seen me.  "Yes sir."

We ate some more.  I said, "You gonna give me a whip "No.  You're
getting' kind of old for that foolishness, don't guess so."

"Well, you are.  You act more your age, and I'll treat you age.  That a
deal?"

"Yes sir."

"Being your age means listenin' to what I tell you.  Or your tells you.
You got to show some good sense.  I didn't you to see all that." "I
done seen her, Daddy."

"I know, son.  But that was an accident.  This here, it wasn't of your
business.  It was in a different light.  Hear what sayin' ?" "Yes
sir."

"That poor woman was loved by someone somewhere, and i'ain't good to
have a bunch a people gaping at her like she's in a circus.  She ain't
got no control over what hap to her now, so we got to control it. 
Everything done there to find out what we needed to know.  And another
thing, there's things you don't need in your head 'less you got

'em.  You may not think that now, but believe me, there's you don't
need and they'll come back to you and they be pleasant.  And by the
way.  I noticed you boys were up soon as you climbed on the roof. 
Ain't none of you quiet. to let you know, them boys are pretty good
boys.  Uncle the little one's grandpa."

"Abraham."

"Yep, Abraham.  And the other one is Mr.  Dale's boy.  Mr.

Joe R. tails dale

Dale is a pretty fair farmer.  He wrestles at fairs for hear he's good
at that too.  His boy's name is... let me "Richard."

"Yep, Richard.  They ain't a bad couple to play let me tell you
something sad.  Abraham, another few and Richard won't play together. 
They won't even be to "Why, Daddy?"

Daddy looked over at Uncle Pharaoh, as if to make was out of earshot. 
""Cause the world ain't the way posed to be.  You figure on that, and I
think the an, come to you."

It already had.  I said, "Daddy?  Did you figure out that to that
colored woman?"

"No.  I don't really know more than I did, 'cept it rible.  I don't
know I'll ever know any more than I

"Why did Doc Stephenson come?"

"I don't tightly know, but I figure he wanted to be something like
that, and not have it hurt his business "He didn't sound like he knew
much."

"I don't think he cared one way or another.  He just to be the one
making the statements, not a colored come to Doc Tinn anytime before
I'd go to that quack.  Listen here.  Whites and colored ain't neither
one or worse than another.  There's just men and women of ever color,
and some of them are worse than others, and are better.  That's the way
to look at that matter.  I'm an rant man, son, but I know that."

"Daddy.  Miss Maggie says it's probably the Goat Man it"

"How'd she know anything was done?"

I blushed.  "I guess I told her."

"Well, I figure it's no big secret by now, but you keep talk like that
to yourself when you can."

there's no Goat Man," Daddy said.  "I've heard tell of such my life,
but ain't never seen' it.  As for this fella done this the devil's
servant, well, she might have something' there. I figure he's flesh and
blood all right. ""Daddy the one done that to that colored woman?"
"Miss Sykes, son.  She had a name.  We know it now." "Yes sir.  One did
that... He still around?"

Daddy had the bologna in his hand, and was cutting it with
pocketknife.

"I don't know, son... I doubt it."

It was then, for the first time, I thought my Daddy might lied to me.

It was hotter on the way home than when we'd left, and a of the water
had dried up or at least caked into mud.  It was in the road and it
caused us to go slow.

We hadn't got more than a couple miles outside of Pearl when a black
Ford with dents all over it, sitting in the of a hickory nut tree,
pulled onto the road and right up us, going fast enough to toss mud on
us.

A red-faced man was sitting on the passenger side wear inga big white
hat.  He waved his arm out the open window at Daddy and pointed to the
side of the road.

Daddy pulled over, said, "It's all right, son.  It's the law over I
know 'em.  Wait on me, hear?" As Daddy got out of the car, I slid over
behind the steer wheel  Daddy went to the rear of our car, and the man
on ger side of the dented Ford wearing the big white hat out.  He was
big and solid.  He was dressed in gray khakis and wore his sleeves
rolled down and buttoned, as if the dead of winter.  A badge was pinned
on his shirt.

The driver, a fellow with a yellowish coloring to his features, wear inga tan
hat with a near flat crown that made like the top to a butter chum,
stayed behind the wheeling tobacco.

The man in the big hat shook hands with Daddy.  I hear them real good. 
The red-faced man said, "Good to Jacob.  I heard tell you was constable
over there in your

"I don't expect you're all that proud to see me, Daddy said, "so don't
act like it."

The man laughed a little.  He took off his hat and handkerchief out of
his pocket and wiped sweat from side of it.  His hair was even redder
than his face. "That Ralph Purdue with you?"  Daddy asked. The man
Daddy called Woodrow didn't answer tion.  He said, "Jacob, I got to
talk to you.  This here I'll der.  We heard about it."

"Who hasn't."

"Well, now, I could beat around the bush, but I ain't do that.  What I
got to say is simple.  Over here ain't risdiction."

"If I was solvin' a crime, and it led me over here, help me out,
wouldn't you, Woodrow?"

"Oh, you know it.  But, a nigger?  Listen, Jacob, let you some
advice--"

"I've heard it before."

"You heed it from me, okay?"

Daddy didn't answer.

"There's nigger murders, then there's white then there's nigger and
white and white and ni "Murder's murder."

"Let me put it like this.  Niggers over here don't body meddlin' in
their business.  Not you.  Not me."

g3

We're the law."

Yeah, but a nigger woman gets killed down in the bottoms,

one thing.  It ain't like it's a good nigger.  And it ain't like much
to us.  One's gone, and that's all there is to it. probably one of her
boyfriends.  She didn't put out, or out to someone else It's always
something like that. "Jacob, you got some Christian ideas, and that's
good.  But take care of their own.  They like it that way, and we it
that way.  They get in white business, then we take care them.  White
man kills a nigger, that's our responsibility.  A

kills a white man, that's sure our responsibility.  But

"Person's dead, they're dead," Daddy said.  "Isn't that our ?"

"There's some things been a certain way for a long time, they ought to
stay that way."

"I thought the Yankees whupped us," Daddy said.  "And Linfreed the
slaves." "The Yankees didn't whup me.  Jacob, what happened here
obvious.  Somebody got off the train, a nigger hobo ridin' rails most
likely, and he decided he needed some comfort. he got with this nigger
woman and didn't have the money. probably tried to cut him.  He ended
up doin' her in and the next train out.  Doc Stephenson, he sees it
that way." "That's funny," Daddy said.  "He told me he thought a pan did
it.  Or a wild boar.  Or maybe a wild boar held her while did it.  I
forget.  When the two got through they tied to a tree with some barbed
wire." "Jacob--"

"Since when is Doc Stephenson able to look at a body and a hobo did it?
Did the hobo leave him a note?" "Goddamn you, Jacob!  It's known far
and wide all over this you're a nigger lover, and you ain't careful
you're gonna up another generation of them nigger lovers, and some
folks around here have all the nigger lovin' they want. here, we take
care of our niggers our way."

"I want to tell you something, Woodrow.  When we boys you fell off a
barge and damn near drowned--" "Don't hold that over my head."

"Got in that sinkhole and was almost sucked down. wasn't."

"And I've thanked you."

"You have.  Thought you was real grateful about it.  And though you and
I have our differences, I've always when push come to shove, you was a
fair man.  But

I wish I'd have just gone on and let you go under. could rightly figure
for sure what you said about erat ion of nigger lovers was some kind of
threat on my ily, I'd break your goddamn neck."

Woodrow turned red and put his hat on.

"It wasn't no threat.  But you just keep in mind said."

"Whatever it is you said, you keep in mind what I

Take it to heart, Woodrow.  I'm goin' home now." "I ain't finished,
Jacob." "Yeah you are," Daddy said.

As Daddy walked away, Woodrow said, "You tell May I said howdy."

Daddy paused momentarily.  I saw the arteries stand his neck, and for a
moment I thought he might turn he didn't.  He kept coming.

I slid away from the driver's side and waited for get in.  When he was
behind the wheel, I said,

right, Daddy?"

"Everything's fine, son.  Fine."

I looked back and saw the banged-up black car was around and heading in
the other direction, the man

D5

had his sleeve-covered arm hanging from the win When we got home, Daddy
let me out, turned the Ford around, and headed off.  He didn't say
where he was going.  Just told me to tell Mother not to worry.

He didn't come back until nightfall, and he was quiet all tight. 
After supper, he and Mama sat and read awhile, her from the Bible and
him from a seed catalogue and then the Farmer's Almanac.  But he seemed
to be just going through the motions. i! noticed that he had been on
the same page for a long time.

i! Once he looked over at Mother, sighed, then went back to glar!i hg
at the page, as if he wished to be absorbed by it, like a

Me and Tom played checkers, and Tom, after me beating 5er four times in
a row, got mad, turned over the checker board, and went out on the
sleeping porch.  There were a couple of cots out there, and when it was
real hot, sometimes that's where me and Tom slept.

Normally, I wasn't of a mind to care a lot about how she felt, but
maybe seeing that body had softened me.  I went out on the porch.  Tom
was on one of the cots, her hands behind her head, looking up at the
ceiling.

"It's just an ole game," I said, realizing I probably should have let
her win one.

"That's all right," she said.

I sat on the other cot.  We sat there in silence, listening to the
crickets, some bugs banging up against the screen.

"That woman we found," Tom asked, "you think the Goat iilblan did that
to her?"

"Doc Stephenson said he thought some kind of animal did

,luu i. Lnnndnlu it.  Doe Tinn said he thought a man did it.  Constable
thought it was a hobo."

"How you know all that?"  she said. "I heard 'em talkin'." "Is a hobo a
monster?"

"It's a fella rides the trains by sneaking on."

"Well, that's a man, ain't it?  You said an animal, a a hobo."

"I suppose."

"But could it have been the Goat Man?"

"Daddy says it ain't.  But if you put together what says, it adds up to
the Goat Man.  Miss Maggie thinks the Goat Man."

Tom considered on that for a while, said, "Miss knows all kinds of
things.  Makes sense to me it was the

Man.  We seen it, didn't we?"

"We did."

"I didn't see it real good.  It was too dark.  It looked horrible
though, didn't it?"

I agreed it did.

"I think about it sometimes," Tom said.

"I know."  I thought about Daddy telling me I

to talk about the body, but then again, hadn't Tom it?

Heck, I was turning out to be a real blabbermouth. I told Tom what I
had done, about climbing on the and looking through the hole.  I told
her what was said, embellished it a little, making myself the leader of
the group that climbed the chinaberry.

I also left out the part about being caught in the act of ing.  That
seemed to me to take the edge off the story and me seem less clever
than I wanted to be.  ':

I also added, "Don't say nothin' about what I told I'll be in a heap of
trouble."

lde and Tom talked awhile, speculating on the Goat Man,

I pretty soon we were starting to hear him creeping around back of the
house, and maybe even calling to us in a of soft voice that mocked the
wind.  I got up and locked screen door, but that didn't keep us from
being scared.  Pretty every time a bug smacked up against the screen, I
was it was the Goat Man scratching to get in.

Having scared ourselves to death, we gladly went inside to night, as I
lay in bed, Jelda May Sykes came to me, cut up.  Not just the way I
found her, but the way Doc Tinn cut her, from breastbone to private
parts.  There was a big gap in her stomach except for one long
intestine Doc hadn't pulled out.  It hung out of the rip in her belly
and across the floor.  She moved slowly, and finally stood bed, looking
down at me.  Her pubic hair and her cutup was near my head.  I had my
eyes open and I could her, but I couldn't move.  Very carefully, very
slowly, she her hand on my forehead, as if checking for fever.

I woke up in a sweat, and lay panting.  I looked to see if I awakened
Tom, but she was still sleeping sound by the win that connected to the
sleeping porch.  She might have been when she went to bed, but she sure
seemed content now.  She had even opened the window, which was a thing,
hot as it was.

The wind was soft and gentle, moving the curtains.  It licked Tom's
dark hair and waved it about.  I was certain I could death and river
waterin the room.  I checked about, to if Jelda May had moved into the
shadows, waiting for me get comfortable again, but there was nothing
there but the of familiar things.

I folded my pillow and stuffed it under my head deep breaths, tried not
to think about Jelda May

I was doing that, I heard Mom and Dad talking behind just a buzz of
words.

I slid over and put my ear against the wall and tried up what they were
saying.  They were speaking soft, moment I couldn't make anything out,
but pretty justed, shut out the sound of the wind coming through dow by
puttinga hand over my ear and pressing my tight against the wall.

"... you got to consider that except for stories I never heard of a
panther killing anybody I heard D "My belief is they probably have. 
Some say they don't but I think any kind of critter can do that under
the cum stances  Even a family dog.  But Doc no reason to suspect that.
 He just wanted it to be that "Why?"  Mama asked.

"He didn't want no colored doctor making any kind. amination and maybe
knowing something he didn't know. one that's got the mind to admit it,
knows Doc Tinn is doctor.  Better'n most, white or black.  That's all I
cant And Stephenson was drunk, so I don't think that judgment none. 
He may have been showin' out for

Taylor.  Though I don't think Taylor was much "

"What did Doc Tinn say?"

"He said she'd been raped and cut up.  The cutup obvious.  He figured
someone had come back after she was probably the killer, and kind of
played with the body." "You don't mean it?" "Uh huh."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"I don't know.  I haven't even an idea."

"Did the doctor know her?"

"No, but the colored preacher over there, Reverend

I!

and a... he called her a juju woman."

what?"

ome kind of witchcraft they believe in.  She sold charms such.  She
worked in the juke joints along the river.  Picked little white trade
now and then."

no one has any ideas who could have done it?"

over there gives a damn, May Lynn.  No one.  The don't have any high
feelings for her, and the white law let me know real quick I was out of
my jurisdic it's out of your jurisdiction, you'll have to leave it
alone."

her to Pearl Creek was out of my jurisdiction, but she was found isn't
out of my jurisdiction.  Law over figures some hobo ridin' the rails
had his fun with her,

her in a river, and caught the next train out.  They're right.  But if
that's so, who bound her to the tree?" "It could have been someone
else, couldn't it?"

"I suppose, but it worries me mightily to think that there's much
cruelty out there in the world.  I'd rather it just be fella, not two,
and if I had my real druthers, I'd rather it be any.  But as they say,
wish in one hand and shit in the and see which fills up first."

"Jacob!"  Mama said in what sounded like a not entirely of tone.  And
then she laughed a little.  "Such language." "What do they care if you
chase this?  Why are they so it?"

"You know that much as I do," Daddy said.

""Cause she's colored?  But what would it matter to them if wanted to
chase it?"

"What if a white man done it?"

"Then he ought to pay."

"Of course.  But not everyone sees it that way.  They figure woman who
was a prostitute.."  well, she had it com

Jae g. I.aasdale ing.  If it was a colored did it, one less colored
woman they care, so why bother and upset the old apple cart.  If a
white man, then they want it left alone.  They figure a man can have
his fun with a colored, no matter what fun it is, and he ought not have
to pay for it no kind of "When you dropped Harry off.  Where did you
go?" "Into town to see Cal Fields."

When he said that, I felt knee high to a crippled

My climbing on the icehouse had probably got me sent early, and Daddy
had been discontent enough with me to me all the way home and take the
ride into town by

"He's the newspaperman, isn't he?"  Mama asked.

talking about our weekly newspaper, the

"The older man with the younger wife," she continued, patootie?"

"Yeah," Daddy said.  "He's a good fella.  His young off with a drummer,
by the way.  That doesn't bother He's got a new girlfriend.  But what
he was tellin' me terestin'.  He said this is the third murder in the
area in teen months.  He didn't write about any of 'em in the primarily
because they're messy, but also because the been colored killings, and
his audience don't care about

"How does he know about them?"

"He gets along pretty well with the colored here about.  He said he's
got a nose for news, even if the paper he owns and writes isn't one
that's worth all He said all the murders have been of prostitutes.  One
in Pearl Creek.  Her body was found stuffed in a big down near the
river by the sawmill.  Her legs had been and pulled up and tied to her
head and her body had on.  Like the one I seen today.  Turned out
nobody really this woman, though.  She had sort of drifted in and got
one of the cribs over there."

"Cribs?"

"That's where the prostitutes work, dear.  It's a kind of You know?"

"Oh.  I'm certainly getting' an education.  I didn't know you all
this."

"I find out a lot doin' my little con stabling  Anyway, she found and
buried by some Christians wanted her to have burial, and after a time
no one thought much about it.  It's the old story.  A colored murder
isn't something the colored much about, 'cept amongst themselves.  They
take care of own when they can, 'cause the white law sure ain't gonna
much.  In this case, wasn't no one really knew the woman anyone
suspected.  Same thing was thought then that's about Jelda May Sykes. 
It was figured a tramp done in, caught the train out."

"You said there were three."

"Other was found in the river.  Thought to be a drown vicat first. 
Cal said rumor was she was cut on, but he can't for sure if it's true. 
Might not be any kind of connection."

"When did these murders happen?"

"Best I can tell, the first one was killed January of last year.

other one, I don't know.  Don't even know if it did hap

People could have been talking about something happened ago and Cal
caught wind of it.  Or whoever told him might sheard it.  Or been yarn n
him.  It's hard to tell when it

COmes to the colored community."

"Did Mr.  Fields know about Jelda May Sykes?"

"He did."

They were silent for a while.  Through our thin walls I could hear the
crickets outside, and somewhere in the bottoms, the aOund of a big
bullfrog bleating f: "Jelda M,a'y's body," Mama asked.  "What happened
to it?

|' h took it?

| "No one.  Honey, I paid a little down payment to have her buffed in
the colored cemetery over there.  I know we don't the money, but--"

"Shush.  That's all right.  You did good."  I told the preacher over
there I'd give him a bit more

I got it."

"That's good, Jacob.  That's real good."

"By the way, the constable over there.  You know who "No."

"Red Woodrow."

"Oh.  I didn't know that.  Did you know that?"

"Yeah, I did."

"You didn't mention it."

"Didn't see any reason to.  I never thought about it until today when I
seen him.  I didn't want to now--"

" don't be

"--but I felt I ought to.  I don't like to hide behind Oh, silly."

thing bothers me.  He told me to tell you hello."  He did."

"I didn't plan to tell you.  I don't know why I did."

"Honey, you can quit being silly.  You know there nothing to any of
that."

Their tone had changed.  Had become almost formal.  I sure what was
different, but something was, and it had with Red Woodrow.

"He wanted me to stay out of things."

"It is his jurisdiction, isn't it?"

"Like I said, murder took place here.  The only reason have the body is
I needed help from Doc Tinn."

"Red can be... well, testy."

"Wasn't the word I had in mind for him," Daddy saidl "Jacob, just
forget him." "I want to."

"His shirtsleeves?"  Mama asked.

"He still keeps them rolled down."

They grew silent.  I turned on my back and looked at the

When I closed my eyes I saw Jelda May Sykes again, and swollen, fixed
to that tree with barbed wire.  And she was gone, just faded away,
leaving only her dark eyes, then the dark eyes turned bright and I saw
white teeth in dark face of the homed Goat Man.

Suddenly, I was standing in shadow in the middle of the looking at him.
 He started coming toward me.

I ran, and I could hear him running right behind me.  I was hard, and
he was breathing even harder, but not like was tired.  It was more the
fast-paced breathing of someone something they would enjoy.

The shadows from the trees grabbed at me and tried to hold but I broke
loose.  Just as the Goat Man was gaining on about to put his hand on my
shoulder, I reached the s Road ahead of him, and when I looked over my
he was gone.  I was sitting up in bed, wide awake, at the wall. It took
me a long time to fall back asleep, and in the momo

I awoke exhausted, as if I had been pursued all night by the devil
himself.

After a while, things drifted back to normal for Tom Time is like that. 
Especially when you're young.  It a lot of things, and what it doesn't
fix, you forget, or at push only bring out at times,

back and certain which is did, now and then, late at night, just before
sleep

Daddy looked around for the killer awhile, but some tracks along the
bank, signs of somebody around down there, he didn't find anyone.  I
heard him

Mama how he felt he was being watched when he was bottoms, and that he
figured there was someone out there the woods and river well as any
animal and was keeping on him.

But that's about all he said.  There was nothing about it! led me to
believe he thought those tracks were actually of Goat Man or that the
tracks belonged to the murderer. could have been anyone fishing,
hunting, or just fooling I didn't get the impression his sensation of
being much either.

In time Daddy no longer pursued it.  I don't think it was he didn't
care, or that he was concerned with what Red thought, but more like
there was nothing to find, and nothing to do.

Makinga living took the lead over any kind of investigaand my Daddy
was no investigator anyway.  He was just -town constable who mainly
delivered legal summonses, picked up dead bodies with the justice of
the peace.  And the bodies were colored, he picked them up without the
jusof the peace. So, with no real leads, in time the murder and the
Goat Man into our past.

The thing I was interested in was what had interested me Huntingand
fishing and reading books loaned me by Canerton, who was a kind of
librarian, though it wasn't official.  There wasn't an official library
in Marvel until some years later.  Mrs.  Canerton was just a nice lady
that kept a lot of books and loaned them out and records on them to
make sure you gave them back.  She even let you come to her house and
sit and read.  She always had cookies or lemonade on hand, and she
wasn't to listening to our stories or problems.

I continued to read pulp magazines down at the barbershop and talked
with Daddy and Cecil, though as usual, it was Cecil I enjoyed talking
to the most.  He certainly loved talking, and seemed to like my
company.  He was especially fond of Tom, always giving her a penny or a
piece of candy, letting her sit on his knee while he told her some kind
of whopper" about wild Indians, people at the center of the earth,
planets where the moon was blue and men lived in trees and apes rode in
boats. : Daddy wasn't as much fun to talk to because he always led his
conversation around to telling me how I was supposed to live life and
giving me lectures on this and that.  I figured I knew all that and he
could save his breath.  I had learned the

Jeo R. Laasdalo best thing to do was to just sort of look interested
until out of steam.

Although the murder wasn't on my mind much an one day at home something
came up about it and thetalk had with Red Woodrow.  I don't remember
exactly what ii but Daddy said something about him, as if he were
baiting kind of hook, and Mama said he shouldn't be so hard of and
though Daddy didn't say anything to that, I could didn't like any kind
of defense of Mr.  Woodrow.  I could tell my mother regretted she had
said anything.

Daddy began working at home a lot, going into the b shop now and then. 
He had left the key to Cecil, who come to rely on heavily.

On this day, he had me and Tom go out and set Sally back to harness and
plow.  After a bit he came and ran th dies, had me and Tom walk behind
him and pick up chtu grass that didn't get rolled good, turn them over,
mash with our feet so the roots would be exposed to the sun out.

He brooded for an hour or so over the thing Woodrow, then gradually he
ceased to mope and began tie.  Lunchtime he told me to go to the house
and bring something to eat, as he was going to continue plowing.

Back at the house Mama packed a lard bucket with cornbread and fried
chicken, filled a fruit jar with pin told and put the lid on it.  She
put a couple bowls and some sO with it all, jammed it in the bucket,
had me go out to the and draw up the buttermilk.

When I brought it back she poured the buttermilk couple of fruit jars
and screwed rings and rubber, topper them.  Out of the clear blue, I
said, "Daddy don't hkei Woodrow, does he?"

"Oh, I don't know," Mama said.  "They used to be i friends."

felt like I'd been pole axed.  "Best friends.  You don't mean do you,
Mama?"

"They didn't sound like best friends when they was talking day over at
Pearl Creek."

:. "Daddy told me they talked.  I think Red felt Daddy was in on his
business."

"Was he?"

i "Not really."  She dried her hands and put the two jars of into
another lard bucket.  "Daddy saved Red from once."

' they talked about that," I said.  "Daddy said how he had him from a
suck hole."

"Yes.  I was there.  We were on a barge.  I wasn't supposed be there. 
Girls weren't supposed to do that sort of thing.  Be late swimming with
boys.  I shouldn't have been there." "What happened?"

"Nothing really.  Red jumped off in the water, got in a suck your Daddy
jumped in and pulled him out, was nearly himself.  He was a strong
swimmer back then." "How come they don't like one another?" "Me, I
guess." "What about you?"

"Red was my beau, then I met your Daddy, and he became beau.  It
happened on that barge trip.  That was long ago.  We Were very young
then."

"So he didn't like that you liked Daddy better?"

"That's pretty much it.  But I've felt bad about it some." "Because you
didn't go with him?"

"Oh, heavens no.  But I hear tell all the time about how I

his heart and it hardened him.  About how he don't like no more.  Won't
have anything to do with them.  I don't he's funny or anything."

"Funny?"

Mama suddenly realized what she had said and that it something she
wanted to discuss with me.  Back then such ters were hardly mentioned,
let alone discussed.  Least not family or polite company.

"Oh, nothing, honey.  I just mean he got kind of mean about women and
quit having anything to do with any decent ones."

"What about the not decent ones?"

I knew what I was doing, but I tried to present it in nocent way.

"Well, I don't know about that," Mama said, and I her face had gone
red.  "Now you run on.  Take this on your Daddy before the food gets
cold and the warm.  Tom don't like buttermilk, so let me get her
some!". water."

I knew Tom didn't like buttermilk.  Why was she that?

Mama went out to the well with a fruit jar.  I

carrying the two lard buckets filled with food and drink. dropped the
bucket in the well, started winching it up.  i

I said, "So Mr.  Woodrow liked you, but you liked and Daddy don't like
that you liked Mr.  Woodrow, Woodrow don't like you didn't like him,
and now he other women?"

"Something like that," Mama said.  "I liked Red.  I just,

it just didn't work out between me and him."

"I'm glad," I said.

She pulled the bucket up on the well curb, poured into the jar, and put
a lid on it.  "Me too," she said.  "Now run on."

"Mama?"

"Yeah."

"Why does Mr.  Woodrow wear long sleeves rolled down the time?"

"I'm sure I don't know.  Now go on."

I put the water jar with the buttermilk jars, went on back to field. 
Daddy and Tom had parked Sally Redback at the far near the woods under
a sweet gum tree.  We sat under the gum and ate.  I stole side glances
at Daddy from time to and tried to think of him young and pulling Red
Woodrow of the water.

Actually, he was young when all this occurred, most likely his
thirties, but at my age he seemed ancient.

I wondered if that day he said he wished he hadn't saved

Woodrow was on account of the murder and what Red had said, or on
account of Mama.

I had never really thought much about my parents having a before me, or
having to choose each other at some point.  I took for granted they had
been together forever.  The fact might be jealous of Red Woodrow was
strange to me. was a side of my father I had never seen or even
suspected. began to realize why he had never really taken a shine to

Cecil flirted with Mama, and Mama kind of liked it, and didn't.

When the air had turned cool and the nights were crisp as a starched
shirt and the moon was like a pumpkin in the sky, Tom and me played
late, chasing lightning bugs and each other. Daddy had gone off on a
constable duty, and Mama was in the house sewing.

Toby had actually begun to walk again.  His back wasn't broken, but
the fallen limb had caused some kind of nerve dam He never quite got
back to normal, but he could get around a bit of stiffness, and from
time to time, for no reason we discern, his hips would go dead and he'd
end up drag his rear end.  Most of the time he was all right, ran with a
kind of limp, and not very fast.  He was still the best rel dog in the
county.

On this night he was in the house, something he posed to be allowed to
do, but when Daddy was gone sometimes let him in and he would lie at
her feet sewed.

So it was just me and Tom, and when we were played out, we sat under
the oak talking about this and in the back of my mind I was imagining
the oak to Great Oak where Robin and his Merry Men met in Forest.  I
had read of it in one of Mrs.  Canerton's it had made quite an
impression.

As we sat under the oak, talking, I had that same Daddy had spoken of
when he was down in the bottoms, i deep woods, the feeling of being
watched.

I stopped listening to Tom, who was chattering on something or another,
slowly turned my head toward and there, between two trees, in the
shadows, but clearly by the moonlight, was a horned figure, watching
us.

Tom, noticing I wasn't listening to her, said, "Hey."

"Tom," I said.  "Be quiet a moment and look lookin' ."

"I don't see any--" Then she went quiet, and after a moment, whispered:
"It's him... It's the Goat Man."

The shape abruptly turned, crunched a stick, rustled leaves, and was
gone.

It scared me to think the Goat Man could come as our house, knew where
we lived, but our land was directly to the bottoms and we were a long
way Preacher's Road.

"He must have followed us home that night," Tom "Yeah."

"I don't like him knowing where we live."

"Neither do I."

didn't tell Daddy or Mama what we saw.  I don't exactly why, but we
didn't.  It was between me and Tom, and the day we hardly mentioned it.
I think mentioning it made it real.  It was one thing to have seen the
Goat Man in the got but up next to our house, that was another
matter.

what would have been the point of telling Daddy?

i didn't believe in the Goat Man.  You couldn't believe in some till
you seen it or done it.  Which made me think of that about a woman's
clitoris.  Was that real?  Or was Doc warning?

: For a few days I slept with one eye open, then the urgency passed. 
That's one of the joys of be inga kid.  You can up enthusiasm fast, and
you can get over something just fast.

A week after we saw the Goat Man the great rains came. danced along the
skyline for two days, crackled and inside the cloud cover like
lightning bugs caught up i a cheesecloth sack.  Rain pounded the earth
like Thor's ham stirred the river and turned it muddy.  Fishing ceased. 
Plowceased.  Daddy didn't bother trying to go into town to the at all. 
The roads turned to mud.  The world turned and gray and all progress
stopped. With the rain came the wind, and on the third day of the rain
and the tree-bending bluster came a Texas twister.

A twist eris a horrible, fascinating thing.  One moment there's huge
dark cloud, then the cloud grows a tail.  The tail stretches the
ground, and when it touches it begins to cry and and tear up the
earth.

Its winds can carry men and cars and buildings away as easas a woman
might tote a handkerchief.  It can rip huge trees the roots and toss
them about, knock a train off its tracks tear it up like so much
cardboard.  It can pull worms from ground, toss pine straw through tree
trunks, fling gravel like

Jae g. I.aasdale

This twister I'm telling you about tore through the and laid trees flat
all along the riverbank for about two ripped a swath through the woods
that killed wildlife, ished shacks, sucked ponds dry, toted off the
fish and fro rained them on houses three miles away.

Old Man Chandler, gray-bearded with a nose that lay on his left cheek,
it having got that way by him being by a goat when he was a child,
lived about ten miles directly in the path of the twister.

The twister came down and got him, carried him he lived to tell the
tale.

Later, down at the barbershop, he was quite a three or four days he sat
and told his story all day long men that came in for a haircut or a
shave, or to just bull.  We did considerable hair-cutting business
during that and I made several pennies sweeping up, and Tom nickel tips
just for being cute and sitting there sucking l peppermint stick.

Way Mr.  Chandler told it, he was in his outhouse morning
constitutional when he felt a popping in his ears. sat ion like his head
being packed tight in sawdust, and a like a train roaring across his
property, but since he wasn't miles of a track, he knew that couldn't
be.

Without rising from his business, he lifted a leg and the outhouse door
open just in time to see his shack go to and leap skyward amidst a
black tangled wind already with debris.

Before he could get a page torn from the Sears and buck and apply it to
that part of his body he'd just twister took the outhouse, peeled it
apart around him, and Mr.  Chandler went, Sears and Roebuck catalogue
in butt hanging out.  On those rare occasions when women by to hear the
story, Mr.  Chandler conveniently forgot to tion he was in the outhouse
when the twister struck.  The

II

slightly abbreviated then, with the storm tearing up the and the next
minute he was up and in it.

said he had no idea how long he was in the storm behe developed a sort
of calm, realized he had lost the Sears Roebuck catalogue as well as
his pants.  He said it was going around and around, like being in a
suck hole.  And see things in the funnel, spinning about  A cow, a
goat fish, tree limbs, and lumber.  And a naked colored woman. mouth
wide open, screaming.

It was here in his story that he often got stopped, having the
credibility of some of the listeners.  Key words disturbed them were
woman, colored, and naked.  It wasn't a woman couldn't be sucked up in
a storm, or that she be colored and naked, but it seemed to some this
was the lace on the panties.

I suppose the reason for this was simple.  Nudity wasn't as as it is
now.  These days, pick up a magazine, watch TV, go to a picture show,
and someone's always shucking nearly shucking their drawers.  Back then
a woman's exposed ankle got men excited.

In my case, the cards like Richard and Abraham had talked about having,
the covers of some pulp magazines, Tom bathing in the tin tub, and me
likewise, were as close as I had ever gotten to nudity.  And I'd only
heard about the cards, never actually seen them.

Daddy was often chastised by certain church-minded folks for keeping
pulps handy at the barbershop.  But as my Dad alWays explained about
the racy covers, it's just a little paint, folks.  Nobody's naked.

But since nudity wasn't something thought of outside of the privacy of
the home, the idea that Mr.  Chandler had gotten a peek at a naked
woman, and a colored woman at that, her being fruit, and it all coming
together so conveniently with having lost his pants, there was doubt
among some that this ever happened, and that buried within this story
sort of wish fulfillment.

You see, colored women weren't supposed to be a white man would bother
about, which of course ev knew was a lie, but it was one of those
polite lies Like women only had sex to have children and a virgin when
they married.

So the idea of a cow going round and round didn' them, but a naked
colored woman, that was different. again, there were a few jokes about
the pants-less Mr. dler and the cow, but modesty forbids I discuss such
a

Even with the ribbing and the doubt, Mr.  Chandler his story.  It was
here he added in yet another fact.  As round and round, he determined
the woman was not but was dead, her mouth wide open as if to scream.
were crossed behind her and her arms were crossed breasts, and no
matter how the storm turned her, she that position.

Round and round Mr.  Chandler and all that stuff he saw a mattress and
a little brown dog, still alive, him.  He thought if he could grab hold
of that everything would be all right.  Why he thought this he certain,
but it was some kind of plan.

He tried to swim on air toward the mattress, but He and it tumbled
around and around and finally it came his grasp and he got hold of it
and wrapped his legs

He lost sight of the woman.  Things got blacker, then there was light. 
Mr.  Chandler felt as if he were ing on to that mattress like some kind
of Arab magician a magic carpet, and out into that brightening light
he

But as Mr.  Chandler said, "Soon as it got light, I into the dark."

He lost consciousness.  When he came to be was the mattress and was
stripped of every stitch of clothes,

right sock and shoe.  He was lying in a field of clover a drop of rain
or wind going on, and when he looked wasn't a cloud in the sky.  The
cow that had gone around around with him lay in a crumpled mass some
distance having hit the ground so hard it had been compressed to its
size.  There were fish and some lumber and tree limbs about.  The
little brown dog wasn't brown anymore.

of its fur was gone.  It looked like a large balding rat.  It wandering
about barking wildly, not able to decide if it scared to death or mad
about being plucked.  The colored was nowhere to be seen.

Chandler tore the cover off the mattress, wrapped his started in the
direction he figured would be town.  He some hours later, his rear end
poking out the back of mattress cover, his hair gone, and his beard
plucked, wear one sock, one shoe, and an amazed expression.  He was
folby a stunned bald dog in an extreme nervous condition barked at
anything that moved.

After Doc Stephenson treated him for shock with his facurela snort of
whiskey--and gave him some spare Mr.  Chandler nested free at Cal
Fields's house that night for a week or so after.  It was thought by
members of the that Cal did this not only out of love for his fellow
man, t--being the entire staff of the newspaper for the reason of the
first real lowdown on Mr.  Chandler's adventures, appeared sanitized in
the paper's next issue, two days ii trly of its usual weekly
appearance.  It was a much sought after item second only to Mr. 
Chandler himself, who as I said, made daily residence at our
barbershop, along with the plucked dog had become his constant
companion. My father listened attentively to the story, but like
everyone i.lse he was most interested in the nude colored woman Mr.

andler had seen in the midst of the tornado.

"I just seen her a little bit," he said, "then she disappeared.

 Jao R. tansdaie

I can't tell you much other'n she was a naked nigger, her wide open. 
But she looked like a comely nigger to me.

At home the night after we first heard the story, I Daddy if he thought
thetale was true.  We were out screen porch, and Daddy was oiling the
shotgun down. ied the distance through the screen a moment, said: so. 
I've known Chandler all my life.  He's an honest he tells the story
pretty much the same every time he It don't read as good, but it comes
across the same in the! I'm pretty certain that's what happened, or
what he pened."

"What about that colored woman?"  I asked.

"That's what makes me believe him."

"It's like that woman I found, ain't it, Daddy?" ""Spect so, son.  She
was most likely put down by her murderer.  Probably in the river.  And
that ole storm her up and carried her off to who knows where.  Maybe
hid good, and God, he wanted her found, so he sent a pull her out and
show her to us."

"But she isn't found," I said.

"Yeah, well, you're right.  Is this upsetting you, "No sir.  He's still
out there.."  ain't he, Daddy?" "Depends on a lot of things that can't
be figured Depends on how long ago the body was put down. if the killer
moved on after the killing."

"But you don't think so, do you, Daddy?" "No, son, I don't." "What you
gonna do?"

"Nothing I can do unless the body turns up.  I'm out to where Mr. 
Chandler says he landed, where the cow and look around there
tomorrow."

"And he did.  But he didn't find anything other than the cow some junk.
At the barbershop Mr.  Chandler continued to the story for a full work
week and half the next.  The young whose full name we found out was
Scott Taylor,

how Mr.  Chandler had looked when he was treated, and story got another
week's worth of interest.

Then business dropped off and folks quit coming in for a telling.  Mr. 
Chandler returned to his property, and with of neighbors started
rebuilding, beginning with the out and a new Sears and Roebuck
catalogue.  He rounded out work with a small shack made of crude lumber
on the exact where the old house had been taken.  It was Mr. 
Chandler's that since that spot had been hit once, it was unlikely to
hit again.  He felt he'd paid his dues.

The dog went to live with him, and in time grew its hair which,
according to local legend, came in snow white, the way Mr.  Chandler's
did.  I can't vouch for that.  I don't ever seeing the dog again.

Shortly after Mr.  Chandler abandoned the barbershop to re his place and
regrow hair, the body of the colored woman found.  It was discovered in
a hickory nut tree next to a A child, hearing crows, looked up to see a
mass of birds nesting on a black body.

It was determined the body had been there for several days, it was
considered somewhat amusing that the family had about and under that
tree all that time without so much looking up, and might not have then,
had there not been the of crows. Cecil pointed out that without the
crows they might never realized it was there until the body got so
rotten it started meat in the yard.  The image of raining meat seemed
to him, and he mentioned it several times.

As it turned out, the woman in the tree, her legs pulled up her and
bound, her arms pulled across her chest, her

 Jee R. taasdale hands over her shoulders, wrists tied to her ankles
by rop named Janice Jane Willman.

She had landed in my Daddy's jurisdiction.  I didn't it at the time,
but it was later discovered that a piece of had been rolled up and
shoved deep in her ear.

Part Twn

he year turned cool and crisp and the colored leaves were starting to
drop.  I remember that in the fall, me and Tom to go down to the
Sabine, find big leaves shaped like a put them in the water, and watch
the river take them away. As I lie here now in my rest home bed, I
think of those sailing smoothly and beautifully, the river bordered by
and bountiful trees, casting their shadows on the surface the water,
and I long to be there, or to be small enough to in one of those leaf
boats and glide away.

But the beautiful woods are all gone iaow, cut down, ceo ver with car
lots and filling stations, homes and sateldishes.

The river is there, but the swamps it made have been drained. dligators
have gone away or been killed off.  The birds are not plentiful, and
there is something sad about seeing them glide concrete surfaces,
casting their tiny shadows.

All the wildlife you see is desperate.  Possums and coons in cans. 
Squirrels being fed from feeders.  Befuddled deer next to the highway
or eating corn put out by hunters.

Joe g. Lansdale

What was once the bottoms is hot sunlight on no mystery.  Seasons are
not as defined.  One month, the temperature or the weather, is not too
unlike the

Back then it was different.  And that time of year, my favorite.  Warm
days, cool nights.  Dark woods and a ing river.  Leaves of many colors.
 The moon bright and

'

Every Halloween there was a little party in town for and whoever wanted
to come.  It was sponsored by Mrs.

ton, the widow who operated the unofficial library.  It at her house.

The women brought covered dishes.  Fried chicken,

and sausage.  Cornbread and rolls.  Squirrel and dumplings.

and mashed potatoes.  Pumpkin, mince, and sweet

The men brought a little bit of hooch to slip into their.I

The kids sometimes made ghost costumes from sheets low cases  Some of
the older kids slipped off, went

West Street to mark up windows with soap.

Daddy drove us to the party.  When we arrived and out into the main
room of the house where thetables pared, Mrs.  Canerton, who was
surrounded by men,

i: .. gle and married, came to me straight away, walking in a manner
I'd never seen before.

Her hair, tied up and bound in the back, had

: chestnut strand had fallen across her cheek, another long neck.  Her
white dress, dotted with blood-red flowers the neck, fit her well, and
in all the right places.  I

that dress would be considered modest.  It showed very.

but suggested much.

"How's my favorite reader?"

"I'm fine," I said.

iii

On some level, I realized that night that Mrs.  (

than just a widow lady and, like my mother, pretty.  And she floated
across the room in that white, red-flowered she seemed magnificent. Her
breaking off from those men, including Cecil, and com. over to me right
away, made me feel special.  I could see were all a little jealous, her
having decided to give her to me.

She took me aside and sat me down in the corner in a red chair.  She
sat across from me on a wooden chair and into her bookcase.  She said,
"Have you read Washing Irving

I said I had not.  I found myself staring at her blue eyes,

white skin, and full lips.

After explaining to Mrs.  Canerton that I had not only not

Washington Irving, but didn't know who he was, she said,

you ought to know who he is.  And you will now.  There's story in here
you'll especially like.  About the headless horse With you not getting
a lot of school, you and Tom need keep up.  At least with good books. 
I'll come out in a few and you have this one read.  I'll bring you some
others." "Thank you, ma'am."

Though I was glad to have the book, all my friends were playing, and
that's where I wanted to go.  Not only to but to get away from Mrs. 
Canerton.  She was making me funny, her face close to mine, her breath
sweet as a hot pie.  I had grown warm and itchy all over.

Mrs.  Canerton's men friends were anxious for her to be back well. 
Cecil came over, winked at me, said, "Are you trying to steal my
girl?"

He was wear inga stiff black suit with a shine to the knees elbows.  He
had on a white shirt and a tired black tie. "No sir," I said.

"Oh, that's silly," Mrs.  Canerton said.  "I'm not your girl,

"There," Cecil said, giving me a falsely sour look. done it.  Stolen my
girl.  I think we should duel with dawn.  The prize, Louise."

That was the first time I realized she had a first

"Quit being silly," Mrs.  Canerton said, but it was she was loving
it.

Doc Taylor came over then, just sort of edged and Cecil and touched
Mrs.  Canerton's arm.

I'll tell you whose girl she is," he said.  "Mine." The three of them
laughed and floated back to the of males that had gathered around the
former Mrs. saw a number of other women on the far side of the dressed
up and pretty, frowning in the direction of the and I remember
overhear inga little later at the general one of those women say
something about how shameful been, Mrs.  Canerton with all those men
around like she ought to be ashamed, but I thought it sounded like
grapes to me.

I found Mama and gave the book to her.  She was kitchen, sitting at the
food-loaded table with the rest women, having what she called a hen
party.

As I went back into the living room I saw Doc sitting in a chair across
the way.  He was slouched ing drunk.  I hadn't noticed him when I came
in, but then

I hadn't been looking.  Mrs.  Canerton had distracted mei away.

Doc Stephenson glanced at me briefly, his face turning more sour.  I
figured he was still mad at my Daddy.  Then I Canerton darted by with
Cecil following like a puppy, the men not far behind, Taylor being
prominent, and quit looking at me.  He watched Mrs.  Canerton meet some
guests' as they came in.  I couldn't tell if the way he was ingat her
was with interest or anger.

I realized then every man in the room was watching her,

birds protectinga nest.

I went outside to play.

It was another fine cool night with no mosquitoes, lots of bugs glowing
and crickets chirping.  Me and Tom got playing hide-and-go-seek with
the rest of the kids.  While the who was it was counting, we went to
hide.  I crawled under

Canerton's house, and elbowed and kneed my way beneath front porch,
hoping I wouldn't get fussed at too much when saw my clothes.

I hadn't no more than got under there good than Tom crawled beside me. 
I hadn't worn a costume, but she had on her outfit, an old white
pillowcase with eye holes.

"Hey," I whispered.  "Go find your own place."

"I didn't know you was under here.  It's too late for me to
anywhere."

"Then be quiet," I said.

While we were sitting there, we saw shoes and pants legs toward the
porch steps.  It was the men who had been out in the yard smoking. 
They were gathering on the to talk.  In passing, I recognized a pair of
boots as Daddy's, after a bit of moving about on the porch above us, we
heard the porch swing creak and some of the porch chairs scraping
around, then I heard Cecil speak. : "How long she been dead?"

"Couple of weeks, maybe," Daddy said.  "It's hard to say.

Water and tornado didn't do the body any good."

"She anyone we know?"

"A prostitute," Daddy said.  "Janice Jane Willman.  She lived all them
juke joints outside of Pearl Creek.  Maybe she up the wrong man.  Ended
up in the river."

"How'd you find out who she is?"

"I brought Doc Tinn and the Reverend Bail from over Pearl to take a
look at her."

Joe R. lansdale

"How'd you know sh6 was from there?"

"I didn't.  But they seem to know most everybody. do most of their
personal business over there, for sons.  They both knew her.  Doc Tinn
had treated her for female problems, and the Reverend had tried to save
her of course."

"I didn't know niggers had souls."  I knew that voice, Man Nation.  He
showed up wherever there was food and sibly liquor, and never brought a
covered dish or liquor. one less nigger ain't gonna hurt nothin'."

"She wasn't all colored," Daddy said.  "She was part A mulatto.  Not
that that matters."

"Ain't no such thin gas part white," Nation said.

of nigger blood makes you a nigger.  You shit in a snow snow's ruined. 
It don't matter how white it was to begin You ain't gonna melt that and
drink it."

"You know who did it?"  Cecil asked.  "Any leads?" "No."

"Hell, a nigger did it."  Nation again.  "He'd have liked ter had it
been a white woman.  And.  mark my words, it you don't catch this
sonofabitch.  A nigger prefers a white he gets a chance.  Hell,
wouldn't you if you was a white woman, that's prime business to
'em."

"That's enough of that," Daddy said.

"I'm sayin' it's comin', Constable.  It's nothing yet, gers, but a
white woman is gonna get hers."

"I don't get you," Daddy said.  "You think colored ored it's all
right--"

"It is."

"--and you don't care if anything's done about now you're telling me
this killer's got to be caught white woman might die.  Which is it?"

"I'm just sayin' niggers ain't a loss."

"And what if the killer's white?"

"They still ain't a loss," Mr.  Nation said.  "But it'll turn out to be
a nigger.  Mark my words.  And all this murderin' won't at just
niggers."

"I heard you had a suspect," Cecil said.

"Not really," Daddy said.

"Some colored fella, I heard," Cecil said.

"I knew it," Nation said.  "Some goddamn nigger." "I picked a man up
for questioning, that's all." "Where is he?"  Nation asked.

"You know," Daddy said, "I think I'm gonna have me a piece of that
pie."

The porch creaked, the screen door opened, and we heard steps entering
into the house.

"Nigger lover," Nation said.

"That's enough of that," Cecil said.

"You talkin' to me, fella?"  Mr.  Nation said.

"I am, and I said that's enough."

There was a scuttling movement on the porch, and suddenly there was a
smacking sound and Mr.  Nation hit the ground in front of us.  We could
see him through the steps.  His face turned in our direction, but I
don't think he saw us.  It was dark under the house, and he had his
mind on other things.  He got up quick like, leaving his hat on the
ground, then we heard movement on the porch, the screen door again, and
Daddy's voice.  "Ethan, don't come back on the porch.  Go on home."

"Who do you think you are to tell me anything?"  Mr.  Nation said.

"Right now, I'm the constable, and you come up on this porch, you do
one little thing that annoys me, I will arrest you." "You and who
else?" "Just me."

"What about him?  He hit me.  You're on his side because took up for
you."

"I'm on his side because you're a loudmouth spoiling every one else's
good time.  You been drinkin' too much.  Go and sleep it off, Ethan. 
Let's don't let this get out of

Mr.  Nation's hand dropped down and picked up his said, "You're awfully
high and mighty, aren't you?"

"There's just no use fighting over something said.

"You watch yourself, nigger lover," Mr.  Nation said. "Don't come by
the barbershop no more," Daddy "Wouldn't think of it, nigger lover."

Then Mr.  Nation turned and we saw him walking Daddy said: "Cecil.  You
talk too much."

"Yeah, I know," Cecil said.. "Now, I was gonna get some pie," Daddy
said.  "I'm go back inside and try it again.  When I come back out,
about we talk about something' altogether different?"

"Suits me," someone said, and I heard the screen again.  For a moment I
thought they were all inside, realized Daddy and Cecil were still on
the porch, and was talking to Cecil.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you like that," Daddy "It's all right,"
Cecil said.  "You're right.  I talk too "So do I. I shouldn't have told
you I had a suspect first place.  I didn't tell you to be quiet about
it.  I should I can't say I'm much of a policeman.  I think I was could
brag a bit.  About what, I don't know.  Feeling like the job, I
guess."

"Still, I knew better."

"Let's forget it.  And thanks for hitting Nation.  You owe me that."

"I did it because I owed him that.  This suspect,

think he did it?" "No.  I don't." "Is he safe?"

"For now.  I may just let him go and never let it be known he is."

Again, I'm sorry, Jacob."

"No problem.  Let's get some of that pie."

n the way home in the car the windows were and the October wind was
fresh and ripe with of the woods.  My belly was full of pie and was
cozy and content.  I was thinking of Louise I found myself wondering
how she would look dress.  The thought bothered me and I tried not to
But I kept thinking about her bosom, her long legs they would feel
beneath my hands.

Finally I prayed silently to God, but all the while thinking of her
naked.  I wondered if God saw her must.  What did he think about that? 
Did he like what Was there no consideration for what he saw?  Didn't he
her?  If so, why did he make ugly people?

I believe it was at that point, although I didn't at the time, my ideas
of God and religion were change, even erode.

As we wound through the woods along the dirt led to our house, I began
to feel sleepy.

Tom had already nodded off with her dirt-stained clutched in her hands.
I leaned against the side of the i and began to halfway doze.  In
time, I realized Mama and were talking.

"lie had her purse?"  Mama said.

"Yeah," Daddy said.  "He had it, and he'd taken money it."

"Could it be him?"

"He says he was fishing, saw the purse and her dress float snagged the
purse with his fishing line.  The dress washed i.by him.  He saw there
was money in the purse, and he took a purse in the river wasn't
something anyone was to find, and there wasn't any name in it, and it
was just dollars going to waste.  Said he didn't even consider that had
been murdered."

"So you believe him?"

"I believe him.  I've known Old Mose all my life.  He prac lives on
that river in that boat of his.  He wouldn't harm

Besides, the man's over seventy years old and not in the of health. 
He's had a hell of a life.  His wife ran off forty ago and he's never
gotten over it.  His son disappeared he was a youngster.  "Whoever
raped this woman had to pretty strong.  She was young enough, and from
the way body looked, she put up a pretty good fight.  Man did this to
be strong enough to... well, she was cut up pretty bad.

as the other woman."

"Oh dear."

"I'm sorry, honey.  I didn't mean to upset you."

"How did you come by the purse?"

"I went to see Mose.  Like I always do when I'm down on river.  It was
layin' on thetable in his shack.  I had to ar him.  I don't know I
should have now.  Maybe I should taken the purse and said I found it. 
I believe him.  But I have evidence one way or the other."

"Didn't Mose have some trouble before?"

"When his wife ran off some thought he'd killed her was fairly loose. 
That was the rumor.  Nothing ever it." But he could have done it?"

"I suppose."

"And what about his boy?  What happened there?" Telly was the boy's
name.  He was addle-headed. claimed that's why his wife run off.  She
was embarras that addle-headed boy.  Kid disappeared four or five and
Mose never talked about it.  Some thought he too.  But that's just
rumor.  White folks talkin' about folks like they do.  I believe his
wife ran off.  The boy much of a thinker, and he may have run off too. 
He roam the woods and river.  He might have drowned, some hole
somewhere and never got out."

"But none of that makes it look good for Mose, do "No, it doesn't."

"What are you gonna do, Jacob?"

"I don't know.  I was afraid to lock him up over courthouse.  It isn't
a real jail anyway, and word gets a colored man was involved, there
won't be any real on the matter.  I'talked Bill Smoote into letting me
keep over at his bait house."

"Couldn't Mose just run away?"

"I suppose.  But he's not in that good a health, hon, he trusts me to
investigate, clear him.  That's what nervous.  I don't know how.  I
thought about talking county boys that cover Pearl Creek.  They have
more ence, but they have a tendency to be a little emotional selves."

"You mean Red."

"Yeah.  He's rumored to be in the Klan, or was." "You don't know that
for a fact," Mama said.

"If he ain't got an official hood in his drawer," Daddy said,

can bet he's got one in spirit."

"He ain't always been that way."

"No.  But things change.."  things can happen."

Mama quickly changed the subject.  "But if it's not Mose,

is it?"

"After I was told about Janice Willman, I went over and a look at the
body.  Same sort of thing.  She's been cut and tied with one leg pulled
up to her neck, rope around head and ankle.  That seems to be a thing
he does to every of 'em, some kind of tie-up." "Does that mean
anything, tying them up like that?"

"I don't know.  Doc Tinn thinks so.  When I showed him body and talked
to him about it, he said he believes these have a pattern.  He'd done
some reading on it, and he they do pretty much the same thing over and
over.  Litdifference here and there, but the same thing.  Jack the Rip
did his killings the same, 'cept each one got more vicious the last. 
Doc Tinn told me about some others he's read and now these.  All cut
up.  All tied or bound up in some of way, and all of them in or near
the river.  Or they had in the river.  He calls them pattern killers. 
He said he to write some kind of paper on it, but figures being colored
he hasn't got a chance in hell of doing anything important with it."

"That doesn't explain why," Mama said.

"No.  It doesn't."

I began to drift off again.  I thought of Mose.  He had white blood in
him.  Red in his hair.  Eyes green as spring leaves. Skin dark as
molasses.  I had waved at him not so long ago. $ornetimes, when Daddy
had a good day hunting or fishing,

go by there and give Mose a squirrel or some fish.  Mose always glad to
see us.

I thought of the Goat Man again.  I recalled him standing

Joe g, iaasdaie below the Swinging Bridge, looking up through the at
me.  I thought of him near our house, watching.

Man had killed those women.  Not Mose.  I was certain'

It was there in the car, battered by the cool October that I began to
formulate a plan to find the Goat Man

,.

Mose.  I thought on it for several days after, and I be come up with
something that seemed like a good idea.  ,

Looking back on it now, I realize just how foolish it was.  Inspired by
one of Mrs.  Canerton's books, The of Monte Cristo.

But my plan, foolish as it was, never came to

Next day Daddy went to the barbershop and me stay home with Tom to help
her do the canning. that all morning and well after lunch.  Late in the
Mama sent Tom and me out to play and she set about up the vegetables we
had canned in the cabinets.

Although it's called canning, we did it in jars.  It of work,
sterilizing jars, packing them with cooked bles, sealing them with
paraffin and lids, setting them I was glad to get away from it all. 
Tom and I played a of chase at the edge of the woods, and finally took
to under the oak.  Tom fell asleep in the chair there right and I
walked to the well to get a drink of water.  I was! cooking on my plan
to rescue Mose, although I was ning to wonder what I was rescuing him
from.  Where I take him?

I cranked up the bucket and used the dipper to drink as I was putting
it aside, I heard a car roll up around thought it was most likely
Daddy, maybe coming home if the shop wasn't well attended, so I went
around the of the house to see.

When I got there I saw the car was a black dented Ford.

man that got out was wear inga large gray cowboy hat a holstered gun on
his hip.  He stood in front of the Ford his right knee cocked forward
and he was working the with the toe of his boot, way he had the day I
first him.  He wore a long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves but down
tight.  There was a sweat ring around his neck.  He the same man Daddy
had talked to outside of Pearl Creek. one he had saved from a suck hole
when they were both

Red.

He saw me and smiled.  "How're you doin', partner?"

"Okay," I said.

"Your Daddy here?"

"My Mama," I said.

"Yeah," he said, "well, that'll do.  Tell her I'm here, will

I went inside and told Mama.  When she went to the front and saw Red
standing in the yard, I noticed a change in

,

her expression.  I can t describe it to you.  It was surprise, but
lsomething else too.  She reached up and gently touched her !ihair,
then her hands dropped to her sides and she smoothed her dress.

"Red," she said.

"May Lynn.  You're as lovely as ever."

She colored slightly.  "Jacob isn't here."

Red stood in the yard and looked around, as if Daddy might appear out
of the afternoon air.  "Say he ain't."

Of course he wasn't.  I had already told him Daddy wasn't ill.

"Well now, maybe we could chat a few minutes," Red said. "lie be in
soon?"

"Yes," Mama said.  Then added: "Very soon."

"May I come in?"

Mama hesitated.  She looked at me.  She said,

on with you.  We're gonna do a little grown-up talk."

I hesitated, but went out on the screened back sat in the swing.  When
Red came in and Mama shut the air draft made the door to the screen
porch push bit.  I got up to shut it, pushed it almost to, then hesJ
knew it wasn't polite to listen in on other people's conversations, but I
couldn't help myself.

"Well, sit down," Mama said.  She sounded and unsure of herself in her
own house.  I had never her to sound like that before.

"Thank you," Red said.  I heard chairs scrape,

was a long moment of silence.

Mama said, "I could make some coffee."

"No.  That's all right.  He'll be back soon?"

"I can't say exactly.  He cuts hair until there isn't cut."

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" "Yes, it has." "Nice house."

"Thank you.  It isn't much really.  Jacob and I

nailed down the floors myself.  My Morn and Dad "Floor looks sturdy,"
Red said. "Thanks."

"How are your mother and father?  I haven't seen years."

"They moved to North Texas few years back.  Mama there to be near my
sister Ida.  Ida was ill and had take care of.  Ida got better, but
Daddy died."

"I'm sorry.  How's your Mama?"

"Spunky as ever.  We've been writing each other a lot. may move back to
be near us."

"I see.  I guess that's good."

13!

There was a long silence.  A bumblebee buzzed behind me,

I turned to see him at the screen, bouncing up against it. Mama broke
the silence.  "Could you tell me what it is you and I can tell
Jacob?"

"I really should talk to him myself."

"Is it about this murder business?  The colored women?" "Yeah."

"Jacob says you don't want him bothering with it." "First of all, the
body wasn't in his county." "It was found in the bottoms here."

"Yes, but he had the body brought to Pearl Creek.  To have bunch of
niggers tell him what had happened to her.  You have to be one of the
city boys to know what happened her."

i "But he wanted to know who she was, as well as what to her."

"Doc Stephenson could have told him."

"Doc Stephenson is a drunk, and a fool.  And a lot less to know who she
is."

"He knows every nigger in these parts.  Heain't got nothagainst
niggers.  And neither do I." "Stephenson is still a drunk and a
fool."

aon t want to argue with you, May Lynn.  There was a tithe--"

"If the body was found here, under Jacob's jurisdiction, 'hat's it
matter, Red?  What business is it of yours?  You say it isn't Jacob's
business, but it seems it's more his business than yours.  He drove her
to your county to identify her, but she was murdered here."

"We don't want the niggers stirred up, May Lynn.  That's all.  They got
to know their place, and when Jacob starts treating them with the same
concern, the same respect as white

Folks, then you could have problems."

"You really believe that?"

Jne B. I.ansdale

"I do... There's a rumor Jacob's arrested a nigger murders."

"That's not true."

"Story goes he's hidin' this nigger out.  What I want to Jacob is this.
 Give the nigger up.  "Cause he don't bad for him."

"Jacob hasn't arrested anyone for the murder. has, what would be the
problem with that?"

"None.  We just want him to give the murderer

"Just a few minutes ago you didn't care about a being killed.  Now it's
a concern."

"I'm concerned a white woman--like yourself--c next.  A nigger gone on
a streak like that, he won't fled with just black women.  He's gonna
want a white fore long.  One he killed had white blood in her."

"Now it matters because she had white blood.  I thought folks like you
thought a drop of colored a person colored, no matter how much white
was in

"Well, I don't think that.  There are degrees.  White can dominate. 
It's the way you look makes you a you live."

"A life is a life, Red.  Dark skin.  Light skin. between.  That's what
concerns Jacob."

"Way it looks, May Lynn, is Jacob's got the man murders and he's
protectin' him 'cause he's a nigger."  ' "You know that's
ridiculous."

"I don't know that.  Doc Stephenson claims Jacob's tight with the
niggers."

"Doc Stephenson's an idiot."

Red laughed.  "He may be at that.  I'm here to help, Lynn.  I owe
Jacob.  I'm here to warn Jacob."

"I don't think you are.  I think this has to do with thin' else besides
him pullin' you out of a suck hole."

"It does.  I owe him for another reason.  And there's

't want nothing to happen that could come down on you

That's considerate of you.."  now.  Considering."

"I was a damn fool..."

,"Sssshhhhh," Mama said.  "Don't speak of it."

Red was silent for a while.  After what seemed like a change seasons,
he said, "I want Jacob to know it could get so come to see him."

"Are you talking about the Klan?"  Mama asked.

"I'm just sayin'..."

"Red.  I heard you'd turned bitter.  That you was sympa to that bunch
of sheet-wearing cowards--"

"Careful with your words, May Lynn."

"I don't need to be careful.  I would have never thought it you.  I
knew you when we were young, Red.  I knew you carry food down in the
bottoms to that poor old colored

Miss Maggie."

"We was just kids."

"That woman practically raised you, Red."

"She was just a nigger worked for my Daddy.  I fed Daddy's tOO."

"You know she more than worked for your Daddy.  You at her breast. 
Played with her kids like they was your kin.  Then your Daddy got old
and so did she.  She was your mother.  She was more of a mother than
your And she was more of a wife to your Daddy than your

"That's enough!"

I heard a slam, as if a hand had been slapped on thetable,

chair slid back.  I pushed open the door and rushed in. "You okay,
Mama?" "Yes, honI'm okay."

Red was standing at thetable, his hat in his hand.  His face as his
hair, his knee cocked forward slightly, turning the

Joe R. iansdale toe of his boot against the floors he'd not too long
ago on.  He glared at Mama.  "You done come to be just like Red said.

"And you'd be lucky if you were anything like him said.  "You got
something' in you always been there,

wasn't just me turned you like they say."

"You didn't help."

Red looked at me.  His hand shook as he put on his "There was a time
when I thought I might should done different than I did, Red," Mama
said.  "For just a moment.  But I come to a understanding with myself Ion
that I was wrong about that.  Still, I considered you a man, Red. 
Today, I don't know.  I do know this.  Jacob times the man you are or
ever will be."

Red opened his mouth as if to speak.  He looked at the steam went out
of him.  He trembled slightly.

"I could say something'," he said.

"You could.  And if you must, say it.  But I've something', and I've got
one more thing to say.  I see still wearin' your shirts with the
sleeves rolled down."

There was a movement in Red's face that fri

But it was just a twitch, then it was gone.

"You tell Jacob what I said, hear?  He's been warned. paid my debt."

"You think that's pay inga debt, you're wrong,

me tell you something'.  Now you've been warned.  Don't ever step foot
on this property again.  You hear?"

"I hear."

Red went to the door, turned, looked at me and "That's a fine-looking
boy you got there, May Lynn.  And got that little girl out there too. 
So innocent.  I believe gonna look a lot like you.  Already starting to
get your hate to think of you bringing them up to think niggers are

arne as us.  It'll just bring them grief, put them on the same evel as
the niggers.  You too, May Lynn."

"Good day, Constable," Mama said.

Red unconsciously rubbed his left hand along his right sleeve, went out
without shutting the door, got in his dented 7black Ford and drove
away.

A thin plume of dust followed after the car and drifted in taste air
long after he was gone.

ama made me swear not to tell Daddy about Red's She said she wanted to
do it.  Word it right so he get angry and go off half-cocked.  I didn't
worry much that.  Daddy could be a little impatient at times and I him
angry, but I hadn't never seen him go off

That night I listened with my ear close to the wall out what Mama told
Daddy about Red, but they were ing so light I couldn't make anything
out but their making noise.  I drifted off to sleep finally, and when I
the next morning I remembered faintly dreaming of the Man.

It was a Monday, and Daddy was off from the lie had already gotten up
and fed the livestock, and as was running like a broken egg yolk
through the tree birds were calling out that they were in search of got
me up to help tote water from the well to the house. was in the kitchen
tending the wood stove, cooking cuits, and fatback for breakfast.

When we came in she smiled and he kissed her on the ran his hand down
her back.  She gave him a quick peck the mouth and a wink.

i We left out then for another bucket of water, and about to the well,
I said, "Daddy.  You ever figure out what gonna do with ole Mose?"

He paused a moment.  "How'd you know about that?"

"I heard you and Mama talkin'." He nodded, and we started walking
again.  We got water and back to the house.  He said, "You ain't
mentioned you anything about that, have you?" "No sir." "Good boy."

"So what have you decided to do with Mose?"

"I haven't decided.  I can't leave him where he is for good.

will get on to it.  I'm gonna have to take him to the or let him go. 
There's no real evidence against him, some circumstantial stuff.  But a
colored man, a white he'll never get a fair trial.  I guess I'd done
let him go, I got to be sure myself he didn't do it."

"I thought you said the woman was colored.  Or part white." "You was
listenin' from somewhere at Mrs.  Canerton's wasn't you?"

I admitted it.

"Well, let me tell you something'.  That woman was white.

didn't have a drop of colored blood that anyone knowed She was
dark-lookin' 'cause she was bloated and dead and there in that tree for
the wind and rain to hammer on.  Folks found her just thought she was
colored, way her skin had Around here, someone gets a good burn in the
sun and brown, there's someone whisperin' there's colored blood 'em. 
Hell.  I thought she was colored too.  Body gets like that,

can't tell much about skin or race or nothin'.  Death puts all even,
boy."

"Mr.  Chandler said she was colored."

Jae R. I.ansdale

"She's dark-skinned, son.  Just like I said."

"But you said--"

"I threw that in to keep from stirdn' people up.

white and colored in the same sentence, folks start to

"You did put white and colored in the same said she was part white."

"You're right."  Daddy paused to take his pipe out pocket, stuff it
with tobacco, and light it.  "I'm not sure smart, son, but I was
playing the odds.  I said she was i. no one cares.  Had I said she was
white, there'd lynchin's all over this county.  But she's got white
blood,

, most folks pause, makes some folks see her as a human

On the other hand, she's not so white they'd get over it.  It's a sad
state of affairs, but that's how it is."

"How'd you find out she was a white lady?"

"Thinking she was colored, I drove her body over i.,

Creek to see if Doc Tinn or Reverend Bail knew who

They did, but not because she was colored.  She was had a bad
reputation and mostly worked the colored

Pearl Creek.  That gave her a worse reputation.  A white that'll lie
down with coloreds don't get the respect of lie down with her own kind.
And a woman like that much to begin with.  She hoboed to get to
Pearl

Tyler, rode the train back when she could catch it.  Did her work at
the dance joints and about.  But, word and it will eventually--that she
was white, well, it won't ter she was a woman none of the so-called
over here would have given the time of day, even if they have given her
a dollar.  Them same men are gonna be arms, ravin' about how a colored
killed her and how all womanhood is in danger."

ill,

"Ain't it in danger?" "

"Womanhood in general is in danger, son.  Anyone

',i ,:' in danger with a killer like this.  But I think it's mostly
after.  I'm just sayin' she'd gotten killed by a train or drowned
accident, wouldn't have been no mournin'.  But folks like think maybe a
colored had his way with her, well, Mose every colored boy over twelve
might end up being' lynched." We carried the buckets toward the
house.

"You said you got to be sure Mose didn't do it, but you a't think he
did, do you, Daddy?"

We were on the back porch now.  Daddy set his bucket down. set mine
down too.  "It's like I've opened this box and I don't how to close it.
 Mistake I made was mentioning it.  That pride talking."

"You were proud of arresting Mose?"

"I was proud of the fact I was doin' something'.  So far in whole
business all I've done is look at a couple dead bod talk to a few
folks, and that's it.  I don't know no more than did when I started. 
"Cept these women got names, and I figure they got loved ones.  Worse thing
about it, I don't even know sure.  I didn't try to find any of the
families or go see 'em. was gonna do any real investigatin', that's
what I should have

It's what I ought to do.  Mistake I made was arrestin' Mose the first
place, then tellin' I'd arrested someone.  And I did on account of Doc
Stephenson."

"How's that?"

"He was in the shop.  He came in to get Cecil to cut his

He used to come in now and then for me to do it, but after little event
over in Pearl Creek, he only has Cecil do it.  I

my pride got to me, him thinkin' I didn't know what I doin', and Cecil
getting' the bulk of the customers, so I shot mouth off like I was
talkin' to Cecil." "But you was talkin' to Doc Stephenson?"

"Afraid so.  And it come back to haunt me at Mrs.  Caner We took the
water inside poured it up in the pitchers and one of the washtubs
where Mama kept extra water the day, then started back.

We came to the well and Daddy rested his bucket curbing for a moment. 
He turned to me and said, "You why I haven't seen any of the folks of
these women de red

I shook my head.

""Cause one's colored, Harry, and the other is a pro, I don't really
know no colored people, 'cept Mose.  I bunch of 'em, and like 'em okay,
and I think a bunch okay, but I don't know 'em, and they don't really
Hell, I don't really know Mose.  All me and him ever about was fishing
and the river and now and then guess I don't want to know no
prostitute's mother or Down deep, I think I may be just like everyone
else.

know what, Harry?"

"No sir."

"That bothers me."

Daddy dropped the bucket into the well.  When it he began cranking it
up.

"You ain't like everybody else, Daddy.  You don't ored."

"Down deep, like I said, I ain't so sure.  I have ings."

"But you and Mama, you're different than the "There's lots of folks
feel like we do.  It's just the the other way got bigger mouths and
they're meaner. tell you something', son.  When I was a boy every word
my mouth about the coloreds was nigger this and I'll I fished on the
river as a boy a lot, and there was this boy down there, and he was
catching big ole catfish.  I was ous of him.  The idea of a colored
catchin' those big ole and me not able to catch anything.  I'm ashamed
to tell I was gonna beat him up one day.  I was down there, and was
near my spot, pullin' them fish out like they was trained jump on his
line.

"He looked over at me, and said, "Sir, I got some good bait made
myself, you want some?"

"I took some, and I still didn't have any luck.  But we sat on the bank
and we talked, and by the end of the day I something' I'd never known
before." "What was that?"

"He was just like me.  He had a mean old Daddy too.  Old had killed
half a dozen folks, all colored, so not a damn had been done to him,
and the boy was afraid of him.  I afraid of my old man.  He taught me
how to make the bait, to take blood and cornmeal and a little flour
dough, and it all together in little balls and let them harden, then
fast hem to the hook just right.

"Me and him didn't become best friends, but I quit think about what
color he was.  It got so I looked forward to goin'

there and fishin', just so me and him could talk.

"Well now, a white girl come up dead and naked in the river, somehow,
and I don't remember how, it was decided this name was Donald, was the
one did it.  I didn't hear nothin' it happening' at the time, but one
afternoon I was comin' from squirrel hunting', and I hit over there on
what some are callin' Preacher's Road, and there was this big crowd,
when I worked my way in there, they had Donald in a bed, and they had
nailed his hands and feet to that bed they had castrated him.

"He saw me, son.  Looking out of that crowd at him.  I still remember
his eyes.  They looked to me as big as saucers.  He at me, and he said,
"Mister Jacob.  Can't you help me?" Stepped back into the crowd, son. 
I was thirteen years old and didn't know what to do, and here was a boy
my age dying calling me Mister and beggin' me to help.

"They set the wagon on fire and finished him.  And it

Joe g. iansdale wasn't two days later they found a trail of that little
girl's and they was followed to a little camp where they found more of
the girl's belongin's, and a dead colored man.  But was the girl's
goods, her little purse and such.  Now, I know that fella did it, but I
can be pretty sure Donald figured the crowd was mad, and the cry went
up a it, and they found them one.  Poor Donald.  I 'spect it man they
found that actually done it."

"How'd he die, Daddy?"

"Just died, I suppose.  Another thing.  They took that body and dragged
it through the woods, dragged it Preacher's Road and all over and
finally cut it loose and to it.  The damn corpse, mostly bones, laid
beside the a month before animals or someone dragged it off.

"Donald's old man.  The mean sonofabitch.  He was killed trying to rob
a house in Mission Creek.  He come the window and was shot.  I remember
thinkin', good Donald, he was a good kid.  He wasn't no worse than that
age, and he was killed like that.  Burned a memory, that's what I'm
tryin' to tell you, and it ain't a memory worth a damn.  '

"Bottom line is, I ain't so pure, Harry.  I didn't do a i to help
Donald."

"Daddy, wasn't nothing you could do."

"I like to think that's the truth.  But I ain't never same since.  I
don't hate no one because of their color if help myself.  Sometimes bad
things wash back on me, but] Harry.  Itry.

"As for your Mama.  Well, she's always been that way. people can just
see a thing is true right off.  Your like that too, and she passed it
on to your Mama, and Mama helps me understand it when I ain't always
It's easy to hate, Harry.  It's easy to say this and that because the
colored do or don't do one thing or another, 't isn't that easy, son. 
Constablin', I've seen some of the worst beings there is, both white
and colored.  Color don't have to do with meanness.  Or goodness.  You
remember that." "Yes sir, I will."

"You see, Hart'y, there ain't no future in the way things been. change
has got to happen if people are gonna live together this country. 
Civil War's been over seventy years or so, and still people hatin'
folks 'cause they're born in the Northor Southern part of these United
States.

"And the only difference for colored now is the masters sell 'em.  Mose
just missed be inga slave, but he ain't never nothing but white folks
on his butt.  That's why he went off live in the woods like he done. 
To get away from white folks. you know what, he trusts me.  Or seems
to.  I go over to on him, he's glad to see me.  He thinks I'm
protectin'

"Ain't you?"

"He'd been more protected had I left him alone.  I think I

arrested him 'cause he's colored and had that white purse.

"Part of me, not a good part, was bothered by that.  Him that white
woman's purse and him being' colored.  Even he did find it.  I was a
boy, he taught me how to put bait on a hook so it wouldn't come off. 
How to skin catfish with a pair of pliers.  How to tell directions in
the woods and where all the good fishin' holes are, and how to look for
new ones.  He ain'tnever showed me no signs of be inga killer, and I
arrested him right away."

"You was just goin' on evidence, Daddy."

Daddy smiled like his lips might run off the side of his face,

the well bucket's water into the tote bucket.

Joe II, Lansdale

When we finished with the water, Mama had thetable, and Tom was
sitting there with her eyes looking as if she were going to fall face
forward into

Normally, there'd be school, but the schoolteacher and they hadn't
hired another yet, so me and her had to go that day.

I think that was part of the reason Daddy asked with him after
breakfast.  That, and I figured he company.  He told me he had decided
to go see Mose.

We drove over to Bill Smoote's.  Bill owned an down by the river.  It
was a big room really, with ice packed in there, similar to the one at
Pearl Creek. came and bought ice by car or by boat on the river. right
smart of it.

Up behind the icehouse was the little house where with his wife and two
daughters, who looked as if fallen out of an ugly tree, hit every
branch on the then smacked the dirt solid.  They was always smilin' at
such, and it made me nervous.

Behind Mr.  Smoote's house was his barn, really big shed.  It looked
like it had fallen down once, then back together by a high wind. 
That's where Daddy was kept.  We pulled up at the house and Daddy went!
knocked on the door.  A ragged, big-breasted, teenage dirty blond hair
answered.

Daddy said, "Elma.  Your Papa in?"

"Yes sir, I'll git 'im."

A moment later Mr.  Smoote was on the porch.  He porky man in greasy
overalls.  He was missing several wore a big straw hat with dark sweat
stains where the met the brim.  He liked to curl his upper lip and spit
through a gap in his teeth.  He did that almost smack inga wad of
tobacco in the sand around the

"I come to see him," Daddy said.

Mr.  Smoote nodded.  "All right.  Let's go on up there and get with. 
Someone come up on us, find out I'm housin' that it could be trouble."
"I appreciate you doin' this, Bill."

"I owe you some.  You sure this nigger's okay to have around

I mean, he killed somebody, I don't like him around my

I got girls."

We stepped off the porch and started wall,"ng toward the

"Bill," Daddy said, "I just brought him in for questioning,

know that.  I can't take him into town.  Folks find out, it'll trouble.
Your littlest girl could whip Mose's ass." "Well, he might use an
axe."

"Bill, you've known Mose long as I have.  What do you

"It's hard to figure a nigger."

Daddy didn't answer that.  He said, "I really appreciate you,

"Well, it's like I said.  I owe you."

When Mr.  Smoote opened the barn door the sunlight barged Dust floated
up and made me cough.  The sunlight poking the dust motes made it seem
as if I were seeing the and its contents through a veil.  There was a
smell about place.  Old hay.  Sweat and soured sewage.  The sewage part
came from a nasty-looking black can with flies hum around it.

In one corner, sitting with his back against a hay bale, was I hadn't
seen him in a time, and I was shocked by small he'd become.  He wasn't
any taller than me, and not Wide.  His arms were like sticks and the
skin didn't fit; it was enough to be double-wrapped.  His patched
overalls, gone nearly white from wear, flapped around his bony legs
stood up.  He grinned at us.  He had a few teeth and a of them weren't
black.  He bowed his head and it our direction as if it hung there by a
loose screw.  His squinted, trying to accustom to the light.  When he
widened them, I was reminded that they were green as aids.  They were
the only part of him that seemed reddish black complexion, odd
combination of kinky, red hair gone gray, made him look like some gnome
from a book Mrs.  Canerton had loaned me.  I imagine when Mose had
gotten so old.

"Missuh Jacob, I'm sho glad to see you," Mose voice was like a crippled
man trying to rise up on

As Mose shuffled toward us, something thumped against the ground,
stirring up dust.  It was a it was attached to a cuff of metal around
his ankle, just where his small foot poked sock less into a worn-out
chain was attached to the barn's central support post.

"Goddamn," Daddy said, then turned on Bill. chained him."

"I owe you, Jacob.  But like I said, I got a family. Mose always seemed
a good nigger to me, but a goes so far.  He stays here, he wears the
chain.  Hell, he's all right.  He eats good cookin' and shits in a can
over have it emptied every day.  And he don't want for

I could see Daddy was exasperated, but he sighed and

"All right.  Let me talk to him, just me and my boy." "Your boy can
know what I can't?" "If you don't mind, Bill."

"I mind, but I'll doer  Jacob, you get this nigger here pretty damn
quick."

"That's the plan," Daddy said.

Mr.  Smoote left out, leaving the barn door slightly Daddy went over
and touched Mose's shoulder.

"I don't unnerstan', Missuh Jacob," Mose said.  "You knows a't do
nut ting to no white womens.  No coloreds neither." "I know," Daddy
said.  "Let's sit down."

Daddy sat on the hay bale and Mose dragged his chain and on the other
side of it.  I went and leaned against the post the chain was fastened
to.  From that angle, way the light slicing in, I could see Mose's
ankle had been bleeding.

was a brown cake of blood below the metal cuff, just where his shoe
started. "I didn't mean for this, Mose," Daddy said. "Yessuh," Mose
said.  "I 'spose not." I'll get you out of here." "Yessuh.  Missuh
Jacob?" "What, Mose?"

"How come you done me like this?"

"The purse, Mose."

"I fount it, Missuh Jacob.  I tole you that."

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't hurt no white womens.  I wouldn't hurt nobody cept a fish,
a coon, a possum.  Somethin' to eat.  And I don't no white womens. 
Coloreds neither." "I know."

*

"You know, Missuh Jacob, but here I is."

Daddy looked at the dirt floor.

"I could have run off that firs' night, but I stayed here 'cause you
asked me to, Missuh Jacob.  Next day, him and a boy came put the chain
on me."

"I thought you having the purse was evidence.  Not that you did it, but
that it was some kind of evidence."

"You done got that purse, Missuh Jacob.  You don't need neo"

"Wait a minute.  Boy?  What boy helped chain you?"

"Jcs some white boy."

"Okay, Mose.  Listen here.  I'm gonna get this chain off of

Joe R. iansdale you, and I'm gonna let you go.  We're gonna take you
Hear?"

"Yessuh.  I'd like that, I would."

Daddy got up.  "Stay here a minute, son."

Daddy went out.  Mose looked at me.  He smiled.  "You bet that ole
grennel you and me caught?"

"Yes sir."

"Had them teeth like a man.  It really sc art you.  The that?"

"Yes sir."

"I cooked it up fer us.  "Member that?"

"Yes sir."

"It was good too.  You don't cook 'em right, they ta" like cotton.  But
I done it good.  We ate it on a stump do, the river.  My boy was
little, me and him used to do th down by the river and eat."

I started to ask him about his son, but considering all had told me, I
thought it might not be the best idea.  N

dredging up more bad things for Mose to think about. "You still got
that coon dog?"  I asked.

"No, Missuh Harry, I don't.  That ole dog done gone his rewa'd.  He was
nigh on fifteen year ole when he do and died.  He couldn't see none
last year of his life.  I h hand-feed 'im.  He couldn't eben smell no
mo."

Daddy and Mr.  Smoote came in.  Mr.  Smoote had a ha and chisel.  "Get
that off of him," Daddy said.

"You takin' him away?"  Mr.  Smoote asked.

"I am.  And don't mention he's been here.  Just he keepin' it a
secret."

"We even then?"

"Yeah.  And Bill, you tell that boy you hired to help put chain on not
to say nothin' either."

"I done told him that."

"I mean it.  I told you not to let no one know Mose was here, and you
done told a boy."

Mr.  Smoote made a noise in his throat like a hog makes when it pokes
its nose into slop and snorts.  He went over to Mose, put the chisel
against where the cuff had been squeezed shut and pinned.  He struck
off the pin with one whack of the chisel and hammer.

Daddy helped Mose up from the hay bale.  "Let's get you on home," Daddy
said.

From our house it's no big problem to walk through the deep woods, hit
Preacher's Road, take the trail down by the river to Mose's shack.  By
car it took longer.  We had to travel some distance.  At first Mose and
Daddy just sat, but after a while they talked fishing.  It wasn't until
we were on the Preacher's Road and nearly to the trail that the subject
of the murder came up again.

"It gonna be okay now, Missuh Jacob?"  Mose asked.

"You just go on about your business, Mose.  I got the purse.

You told me what you know.  I'm sorry I bothered you." "Well, I guess
you had to do it." "I'm sorry you had to stay at Bill's."

"He done all right by me.  "Cept that chain.  He fed me all right, but
he didn't empty that ole mess can much as he said." "I didn't figure he
did," Daddy said.

We drove onto the trail that led down to the river.  The trees Were
close and limbs lapped over the top of the car and bathed us in shadow.
Daddy had to drive slow and careful because the trail was full of
washouts and slippery with leaf mold.

We drove down a good ways, parked, left the car, and walked down to the
river with Mose, over to his shack.  A cool wind

Jee g. I.ansdale was blowing off the brown churning river and it felt
carried with it the faint aroma of something gone to rot. "You need to
come fish, Missuh Jacob," Mose said. "It's been a while."

"Sho has.  You 'member when them ole Davis brothers the river there
poisoned the water with all them green killed all them perch and bass. 
Even some of them big fish?"

"I do."

"I remember how mad you was.  You said, "At ain't to do no fishin',"
and you walloped one of 'em.  You that?"

"Sure."

"You and me, we never did go in for them green or dynamitin', did
we?"

"No, we didn't, Mose.  We just fished the way posed to.  With a pole,
line, hook, and patience."  ' "Yessuh, we did."

"Dem Davises you know they eventually turned over and one of 'em
drowned an other'n got snake-bit.": "I heard that."

"Now that's something', ain't it, Missuh Jacob."  It is"

"Now they ain't no Davis brothers."

We walked him to his shackl He was limping as he When we got there he
pushed the unlocked door open. look any better inside than Mr. 
Smoote's barn, except wasn't the smell and as many flies.  It was just
one room a window near the door, and a window on the

One window had glass in it, the other just a thin strip of low
oilcloth.

Mose went inside and we stood in the doorway. "You gonna be all right,
Mose?"  Daddy asked. "Yessuh, Missuh Jacob."

You got something' to eat?"

"I got couple cans a stuff.  I'll fish me up something' too." Mose got a
small can off a shelf and pulled the lid free.  He his fingers in the
black mess inside, bent over and rubbed on the spot where the chain had
cut his ankle.  It was axle

Lot of folks used it back then to lubricate sores or help bleeding from
minor wounds. When Mose was finished with that, he limped over to one
the two chairs he had and sat down at a small wood plank

He looked even smaller than he had looked at Mr.  Smoote's

"All right, then," Daddy said.  "Well, you take care, Mose." "Yessuh. 
And you come to fish, bring the boy." "I will."

As we were climbing into the car, Daddy said, "Ain't no this hasn't
been my finest hour."

s we bumped up the trail toward Preacher's Road, "What favor did you do
Mr.  Smoote?  He didn't he was real grateful."

"He don't like to think about it, son.  One of his oldest one.  She's
about nineteen now.."  we didn't today."

"Mary Jean?"

"That's the one.  I caught her with a colored boy, son. know what I
mean."

I blushed.  Daddy had never talked to me about such "I ain't never told
nobody but you.  Not even your And you ain't never gonna say, 'cause
I'm asking' you to your word, and I know you will.  I figure there's
some man ought to be able to tell his son he don't have to one else and
can't."

"Yes sir.  Is that why he chained Mose?"

"Part of it.  He don't let that girl out of the house more.  He's
afraid she'll get with the colored.  He figures got a fever for it.  I
figure she's just a little slutty to begin

that probably wasn't her first time to dally.  Colored or white,

can't say.  I don't think Mary Jean's all that choosy."

I filed that away.  :

Daddy added, as if reading my mind, "You stay away from gal, hear?  She
might have some kind of disease."

"Yes sir.  I don't want nothin' to do with her... Daddy, what the
colored boy?"

"She didn't even know him.  She met him down by the river,

She'd gone down there to do the same.  They got to about things, and I
guess she figured she could talk to about stuff she couldn't talk to a
white boy about.  People colored haven't got the morals whites got. 
But it ain't way at all, son.  There's just as many good coloreds as
white, just as many sorry.  Most, white or colored, ain't quite on side
altogether.  They're a mix.  A good person is one where mix turns out
mostly for the better.  But she got to talkin',

and he got to talkin', and well, pretty soon they was doin' more
talkin'.  I was out lookin' for Mrs.  Benton's cow.  Widow up on the
hill behind Bill.  She come to me asking' for help, so I went to
lookin'.  What I found was Mary Jean and that colored boy.  I run him
on.  Told him not to come back.  Mary Jean know his name, so that
wouldn't gonna come up.  I told her to dress, and I took her home."

"And told her Daddy?"

"I wasn't gonna say nothin'.  She told her Daddy.  Just to hurt him, I
figure.  She's got a mean streak in her, but then again,

so does her Daddy.  He's walloped her hide pretty often." "Daddy,
you've walloped us some."

Daddy was quiet for a moment.  "You think so?  I raised big

Welts on you, son?"

"No sir."

"Have I whupped you just to make myself feel better?" "I don't think
so."

"I whupped you for things you didn't do?"

"Once.  I didn't drop that cat down the outhouse.  To that."

"You didn't tell me that."

"She was little.  She didn't know no better." "So you took the whuppin'
for her?" "Yes sir."

"I can admire that.  But you've been corrected, boy.  Nd Stung, but not
injured.  And I don't spank as a matter of I think hard on any
spankin's I give you."  .

"There was that time we put salt in your coffee, took a swig and we
laughed and you jerked us up and.i both.  You didn't consider much on
that one."

Daddy laughed.  "That one didn't deserve considerin'. darn well who
done that."

I turned back to the subject.  "So Mary Jean told herj what she did to
hurt him?"

"Way I figure it.  Bill wanted to kill the boy, but I tol I didn't know
who he was and didn't remember how he Far as he's concerned they all
look alike anyway, so he: have no trouble buyin' that.

"And she wasn't raped.  I told him I seen what wa" penin', and it sure
wasn't rape.  Not the way she was lau

"So Mr.  Smoote knows you know and he wants to sure you don't say
'cause he don't want folks to know his ter was with colored."

"That's about the size of it.  I don't intend to say ne And I've told
him that.  I figured I asked a favor of him do it 'cause he owed me. 
But Bill ain't smart.  Askin' th to help him chain Ole Mose.  He didn't
think that one thr

That night I couldn't sleep, got up carefully so as wake Tom, and still
wearing my nightshirt slipped out on porch.  I thought I might sleep
there, but instead I ended going out to the well in my bare feet and
pulling up a bucket water and using the dipper to get a drink.  I took
my time it, listening to the crickets saw on their legs.

When I got back to the sleeping porch, Mama was there.

was sitting in the swing, wearing her quilted nightgown.  I

I might have awakened her, or that she was going to at me for being up,
but instead she patted the seat beside and I went over and sat down.
"Couldn't sleep?"  she asked. "No," I said.

She put her arm around me.  "Me either.  What you thinkin'

"Nothin' really." "Oh." "You?"

"Everythingall at once.  That's why I can't sleep.  Sometimes jumble
together.  I get to thinkin' about what I'm going fix for breakfast or
dinner or supper.  I wonder if the mule's too old to plow and if the
weather's gonna spoil the fall

9. I wonder if times gonna get any better, and I think about the
mistakes in my life, and I think about you and Tom." "What about me and
Tom?" "No one thing.  Just thinkin'." "Mama?"

"Yes."

"Did you tell Daddy about Red?" "No, I didn't." "Why?"

"It's hard to explain.  I guess it's because your Dad wouldn't idea of
Red comin' around and I don't want to start no trouble between 'em. 
They don't like each other anyway, and Yet they do."

"I-Iow's that?"

Jee g. I.ansdale

"Ain't nothin' worse than two friends fallin' out.

it all, there's still the old feelin's they had for one "I think it's
gone.  Daddy don't like Red." "There's still the old memories, and that
makes each other all the worse and all the harder.  It was me two of
them not like each other in the first place. Daddy savin' Red like
that, and them both courtin' made things difficult when me and your
Daddy got

They never could patch things up."

"How do you mean?"

"I can't explain it.  But that's why your Daddy was Red... People do
foolish things, Harry.  Things they hadn't done, but you can't take
them back.  You have with them, get over them or work around them."

"I don't think Daddy felt foolish about what he was I said.

"I didn't mean your Daddy."

:

"What do you mean?"

"Someday, maybe I can explain it to you better."

"Red still likes you, don't he?"

"I guess he does.  Or did until our little talk."

"Is it like that with you?  I mean like you say it is

'and Red?"

"Maybe.  A little.  Just a little.  I think I like some better than I
like some nows.  You know what I

"I don't know, Mama..  What did you mean

Woodrow about Miss Maggie and his Daddy?"

"Miss Maggie was Red's Daddy's mistress."

;'i

Mstress.

"That's kind of... well, Harry, this is embarrassin'.

when a man is married, and he ain't supposed to be his wife, but he
don't always do that.  And he's got him a on the side."

"Miss Maggie was his woman on the side .... That was many years ago. 
She was a young woman then."

I had a difficult time imagining Miss Maggie young.

"Red's got a half-brother and a half-sister by her.  Or maybe two
half-brothers or two half-sisters.  I'm not sure.  He knows but he
never acted like he did.  He don't claim 'em.  When was little, that
ole colored woman was like his Mama.  His was a cold woman, and didn't
have much to do with nor his Daddy.  I think that's why his Daddy took
a mis But it was really more like havin' a slave than a mistress.

know how else to explain it, Harry."

"I understand."

"Harry, you're getting' to be a young man.  Figure that's why

Daddy took you with him today.  He wanted your com Did you enjoy it?"

i "Yes ma'am."

"Your Daddy and me got hopes for you and Tom.  Jacob from a real
ignorant family, Harry.  He don't want that for He wants you to have a
chance.  Remember that when you like he's pushin' you a little too
hard.  He's afraid you'll up like him."

i "I think I could do a lot worse."

Mama put her arm around me.  "So do I, Harry."

Suddenly Toby barked and a voice called loudly: "Jacob.

Out."

"Who was that?"  I asked.

Mama said, "Sit tight."

She got up, started through the house.  I disobeyed her im and
followed.

"Jacob," the voice called again.  "Come out."

Through the windows and curtains I could see there was a light outside,
a moving light, gnawing at the darkness. Mama pulled back the curtains
and looked.  There were a men on horseback, dressed in white robes. 
They were torches.  One man was standing on the ground, his horse

Joe g. Lansdale being held by a mounted rider.  On the far side of
blazed a cross about eight feet tall.

Toby had come up on the front porch, and he was in as ferocious a
manner as he could manage.

"Run get your father," Mama said.

I started that way, but Daddy was already wasn't wearing any shirt.  He
was carrying our shotgun.  He leaned the shotgun beside the door, went
the porch.

Toby continued to bark.  Daddy said, "Hush, Toby," one more bark, just
to show he wasn't any lapdog, quiet.  Mama called him softly and he
came inside the growling under his breath.

I could smell the gasoline the cross had been

I watched the flames whip at the air like a bloody wind.

"You boys done missed Halloween," Daddy said.

The robed man with the torch said, "We command pilgrim.  Tell us where
we can find the nigger you

"You don't do worth a damn trying to hide your Groon," Daddy said. 
"I'd recognize it anywhere.  You mand me nothin' You hear?"

"Turn over this nigger you got, Jacob.  You can't "First of all," Daddy
said, "I ain't got no one in Second of all, I wouldn't turn him over if
he was on with me.  Take that cross with you, and leave out.  And way,
I recognize you, Nation, just the way you sit And that means them two
dumb boys of yours are with you.  So that's four I know right there."

Daddy called to me.  "Hand me that gun, son."

I was standing just inside of the doorway.  I handed shotgun.  He took
it quickly, stepped off the porch, the man he said was Groon, the
general store owner.  I hard time picturing him under that sheet.

"pull that thing down and take it with you," Daddy said.

There was a moment's hesitation.  Daddy cocked the shot pro.  You could
almost hear their butts grabbing at their saddles.

i Groon spoke in a cracked voice, "Better go on and take it

He said he ain't got no nigger."

The white hoods looked back and forth at one another.  Fi one produced
a rope, tossed it over the top of the bum cross, dragged it out of the
ground and started down the with it, the cross flinging sparks and
flogging flames.

The others left out, except for the man holding Groon's and Groon
himself.  The rider presented Groon with his and thundered off down the
road.

"It's one tight brotherhood, ain't it?"  Daddy said.  "Groon,

--,"tep,up here on the porch."

| "We done tore the cro down, Jacob."

| "I know.  Step up here.

Gro0n came over, leading his mount.

"Tie your horse," Daddy said.

Groon tied it to a porch support post.

" Lift that hood off."

Groon lifted it, revealing his bald head.  He looked half the size he
had out there by the cross with the pointed hood on.  I realized he
wasn't any taller than me, and only a little bigger. lie appeared to be
a silly adult who had been wear inga ghost costume.

"Now, come on in the house."

"Jacob..."

"Just do it."

Mama put Toby outside as Mr.  Groon came in, just in case 'he might
decide to take a nip at his ankles.

Daddy led Mr.  Groon through our main room where the kitchen and dining
table were.  He took Groon into his and

Mama's bedroom, mine and Tom's room, then out on the sleep

Jeo R. I.ansdale ing porch, all of us tagging behind, trying to figure
what world was going on.

We ended back up in the main room.  Daddy said to

"See any colored folk?"

Groon shook his head.

"Good.  You tell your friends that.  Now sit at thetab

Groon was starting to shake.  I was pretty darn nervot self.

Daddy said, "May Lynn, would you mind getting' th out of the pantry?"

Mama looked at Daddy as if he had just decided to u kitchen for an
outhouse, but she got the cake out and pu thetable.

'

"And if I could trouble you for some plates.  And forks."

Mama got out the plates and forks.  She looked at Da(

if he were ready to be put in a home for crazy folks.

',:

"Now," Daddy said, still holding the shotgun on ( "everyone please sit
at thetable."

I did, and Mama did.  Daddy lowered the shotgun, o it.  No shells flew
out.  It was empty.  He made note of t

Groon, who let out a sigh of relief.

"Now, Groon.  I want you to have some of this cake.

Lynn is the best damn cake baker in these parts.  And I

you to note that everything here was made from suppli bought at your
store."

Groon looked at Mama.  Mama tried to smile, but it,

quite work.

We all ate cake.

When Groon was finished, Mama said, "You like at il piece, Mr. 
Groon?"

"Yes ma'am, I would."

I don't know how late Daddy and Mr.  Groon talked, but it late.  I
finally tuckered out and drifted to the sleeping porch Mama.  We sat
together on the swing there, and when I she was gone and I was lying on
the swing with a pilunder my head and a blanket over me.  The sun was
com up and our rooster crowing.  I went into the kitchen.  Daddy Groon
were still in there, sitting in front of greasy plates, sopped of eggs
and fatback grease.  Mama was pouring

"You like some eggs and biscuits, Harry?"  she asked.

I told her I would, and sat down at thetable.  Tom came in, rubbing
her eyes.  Sometimes she could sleep a marching band.  She looked at
Mr.  Groon, who still at thetable wearing his robes, his hood pushed
back.  In the morning sunlight, his hair looked even thinner and whiter
and the bald spot was a soft, smooth cream color.  I could see liver
Spots on the back of his hands.

"You got on a ghost suit, Mr.  Groon?"  Tom asked.

He smiled at her.  "I guess I do, missy."  He stood up, stretched ut
his hand to Daddy.  "You won't have no more trouble from me."

"Fair enough," Daddy said.

"Good cake, and a good breakfast, Mrs.  Cane.  Thank you." Mama
nodded.

Groon got up and went outside.  Daddy went with him.  The air still
smelled faintly of gasoline and burnt wood.  Toby was lying on the
porch.  He shifted slightly and put an eyeball on Mr.  Groon.  Mr. 
Groon leaned forward slowly and extended his hand to Toby.  Daddy said,
"It's all right, Toby."

Toby sniffed at the hand, then lay back down, satisfied.

"Maybe we ought to walk your horse down to the barn, get SOme grain and
water," Daddy said.

"That'd be good," Mr.  Groon said.

"I'd like you to look around out there.  See there'sored hiding
there."

Groon nodded.

"Son," Daddy said, "clean that up, will you?"

He was talking about a big pile of horse manure Mr. horse had left. 
"Yes sir," I said, and went to get the

As I went around the house to where the shovel ingagainst the outside
wall, I heard Daddy say: "Ben, any shells in that gun, but I want you
to know, I had my pocket."

Later that day, I walked down the road following of the dragged cross. 
Eventually, I came upon what was it.  The rope had burned through and
the remains of the lay in the center of the road.  It was a
black-charred still obviously a cross.

As I stood looking, a sharp wind came along and ash off of it and some
of it stuck to my shirt, the one had made of bleached flour sacks.  The
one that was snow white, not from design, but from wear.  And even Mama
washed it afterward, using good lye soap, it never completely clean.

Somewhere, even now, after all these years, and me grown out of it, I
still have that shirt.  Folded up in a storage, moth-eaten and turned
yellow, with stains the ancient dried blood dotted just above and below
the left pocket.

Part Three

he other night, here in the home, under warm blankets with sleet
slanting in hard against the window, I drifted off and to the sound of
a horn blaring, and though the horn had different noise than those on
the old cars, when I heard it, I immediately thinking of Grandma. I may
have even called to her, for in that moment, with the of the horn still
in my ears, and me slowly realizing the had come from out on the
highway near the home, I was of her enthusiasm.  She liked her horn,
and was known honk it at the slightest reason.

I awoke thinking of her, and tears rolled down my cheeks. only because
of her memory, but because I was even more of then, and suddenly I was
pulled into now, and I not like now, for I am old.  So very old.  Older
than she got be.  And I'm not sure a person ought to live to be too
old. when you can't live life, you're just burning life, sucking and
making turds.

Perhaps it's not age, but health that matters.  Live long and

Joe g. I.ansdale healthy, it doesn't matter.  But live long and
unhealthy, it' ing hell.  And here I lie.  Not doing well at all.

Only the past seems to matter now; only it seems to only it can support
my soul.

It was about two days after our encounter with the Grandma come to live
with us.  She drove up in a Ford with a cracked windshield and a rabbit
hung up front bumper.  She was honking her horn like she wanted to
move.

Women drove cars back then, but it wasn't real among men folks down in
the bottoms, especially if the was older, and therefore figured to be
more dignified. was considered masculine, like smoking, cussing,
fighting.

Grandma did a little of all of those.  She and my had been one heck of
a couple, and now that he was gone, and Grandma was nearing seventy, I
assumed calmer and older-looking.

But on the day she arrived, and we ran out to see was--Toby gimping
around the edge of the house to she got out of the car looking the same
as always.

She was a little heavy, but really quite pretty for woman, tall and
strong-looking.  Her hair was a and white and she had it up in a tight
bun.  She wore brown men's work shoes with a kind of sack dress that
once green but had faded to gray.

"Hey, there they are," she said as we came out of the "My whole pack of
heathens.  Oh, my God, is that Tom.9',

Tom was peeking out from behind Mother's dress.  She only seen Grandma
when she was little and had not to appreciate what a whirlwind the old
lady was.  "Come to me," Grandma said. "I don't wanna," Tom said.

Grandma tossed back her head and bellowed.  "Ain't she just cutest
little rascal."

Toby was so startled by that laugh, he started barking.

In one smooth action, Grandma reached to the ground,

a dirt clod and tossed it at Toby.  Most of the clod came before it
reached him, but it made him scuttle under the where he continued to
bark until Daddy hushed him.

i Grandma latched her eye on me now.  "You, boy, come here give me a
hug."

I went.  Grandma always overwhelmed me, but there was about her that
made you feel safe and confident.  She strong.  She picked me off the
ground and set me down so on my heels my back teeth shook.

She then proceeded to hug my Dad, actually picking him as well, then
she grabbed at Mama, who feinted and said,

calm down, Mama.  I ain't like them boys.  I can't take that liftin'
up."

Grandma laughed, grabbed Mama, and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. 
Grandma, contrary to the fact she chewed tobacco and smoked and drank
coffee all the time, had all her own teeth and they were as white as
the ivory on a piano.  She said she used a frayed willow branch and
baking soda to clean 'em, but I think a lot of it was just natural.  I
doubt she ever had a cavity.  She chewed peppermints all the time for
breath freshener and kept chunks of them in a paper bag in her purse.

"Honey," she said to me, "get that rabbit out of the bumper

Take it out back and clean it and bring it in and I'll fix us Some
dinner."

She was talking about the noon meal.  Lunch was something in cities
ate.  We called the late meal supper.

I looked at Daddy, not knowing what to do about bit.  He said to
Grandma, "June, ain't that rabbit a little

"Aw, hell no.  I hit it about two or three miles down Jumped right out
in front of me.  Probably still warm.

like my rabbit and dumplin's don't you?"

"Well, yeah," Daddy said.

"Good then," Grandma said.  "We got us a free dinner.i shut up, Jacob. 
Get the rabbit, honey."

I got it.  Daddy put his arm around me.  "Let's go back and skin it,"
he said.

Grandma put her arm around Mama's shoulders.  Tom to Mama's dress, lest
Grandma get her hands on her, all went in the house.

"That, son," Daddy said, "is a human tornado."

As we finished up the rabbit, which was really Grandma, who had been
talking almost the entire time while eating, said, "I love and miss
Grandpa, but I'm dead."

"Don't say that!"  Mama said.

"Was he in a lot of pain?"  Daddy asked.

"No.  No.  Thank goodness for that.  But he took to gospel songs.  He'd
just burst out in one from time to be couldn't carry a tune in a syrup
bucket with a lid on was miserable.  And you couldn't shut him up.  I
figured time for him to go just so I wouldn't have to listen to "Mama,"
my Mama said.  "That's terrible."

"Naw, it ain't.  He didn't have no mind to speak of, wouldn't have
wanted to just carry on.  He was a smart fore the old age took him.  I
ever start talkin' to heaven forbid sin ga goddamn gospel song--"

"Mama, your language."

,"--just go on and shoot me in the head.  Pass them biscuits.

Harry, pass the gravy, and don't put your thumb in it this

We ate rabbit and sopped up gravy with big fluffy biscuits had cooked,
and they were better than Mama's.  After we were all too weak to go out
in the fields and work, Daddy pronounced, in honor of Grandma's visit,
except for chores that couldn't be put off, a day of rest.  As for the
well, when he didn't show Cecil knew what to do. was best that way,
Daddy trying to work the farm and being constable and all.

It was a warm November day and cloudy.  It and a full belly me feel
sleepy.  I went out on the sleeping porch with Tom we sat in the swing
and talked.

"She reminds me of that witch in Hansel and Gretel," Tom

"Naw.  She's all right.  You just don't know her.  You give her some
time.  She's more fun than Mama and Daddy, and she gets in trouble more
than we do."

"Really?"

h yeah.  When you was little we used to live with her and i Grandpa. 
They moved off though, and Grandpa died." "I know that.  I went to his
funeral too." "You don't remember that, do you?" "I heard tell I
went."

"I remember it.  It was a long ride up there and back." "She gonna
stay?" "Probably."

"That means our room is her room, don't it?"

"We can lay claim to the sleeping porch, most likely."

I thought about that.  There were a couple advantages.  It was in the
summer, and if you slid over next to the wall under and Daddy's room,
you could hear them talkin' even bet in our room.

Drawback was, in the winter it was cold as a well di butt.  Most likely
we'd end up putting our pallets down kitchen then.

"Was Grandpa crazy too?"

"Might near.  But he was quieter." "Well, I guess that's something',"
Tom said.  "She talks enough to shake dust off the ceilin'."

Grandma come out on the sleeping porch then.  She "Anybody for
fishin'?"

Daddy had followed her out.  He said, "I don't let off fishin' much. 
Not these days."

Grandma looked at him as if he had spoken an oh even she was offended
to hear.  "Why not?"

"We've had a few problems of late," Daddy said.

a nutshell, he told her about the murders.  He didn't

Klan's visit or Mose.

"They'll be with me, Jacob.  I'll take 'em fishin'."

"I don't know."

"Come on, Daddy," Tom said.  "I done forgot how to

"You can't let something' like that run their lives," said.  "I brought
along my shotgun.  I'll take it with me."

Daddy had doubts, but he said, "Don't go off a long There's some close
fishin' holes."

"I know where they are," Grandma said.  "Mose all them holes.  Is old
Mose still alive?"

"Yes," Daddy said.

"He still live in that same shack?"

Daddy nodded.  "I'd prefer you not go off that far." "All right then,"
Grandma said.  "Can they go?"

"Long as you're with them.  And stay pretty close to house."

Grandma put on some overalls.  Me and Tom dug some worms and put them
in a coffee can, got poles and fishing business together, and with
Grandma totinga double-barrel twelve gauge we went into the woods,
heading for the river.

The woods smelled sour that day, and the way the trees rose up and the
sun shone down, it was like being in some kind of cathedral with light
coming through stained glass.  Dried pine needles crunched under our
feet and colored leaves were blowing past us thick as raindrops.

I still felt full and sleepy, but the walk was starting to invigorate
me.  Grandma walked us down to the river and we picked a spot with a
big wash in the bank and gathered up there, put worms on our hooks.  We
started fishing, and pretty soon, Grandma started talking.

"You remember me, Harry?"

"Yes ma'am.  I remember when you moved off.  I remember you good. 
Grandpa too."

"Well, I'm glad to be back now." "I don't remember you," Tom said.
Grandma laughed.  "I suppose you don't." "I'm sorry about Grandpa," I
said.

"Me too.  I couldn't stay there near his grave though.  A grave is just
a grave.  The man is in my heart.  I love my daughter Earlene, but I
had to get back to East Texas.  They ain't got no trees up there near
Amarillo."

"No trees?"  Tom asked.

"They call some of 'em trees, but they're more like bushes. And they
ain't got the rivers and the creeks like we got down here.  Ain't got
the critters we got.  And it's harder to make you Somethin' to eat. 
Can't grow nothin'."

"Daddy says times are hard here," I said.

"They're hard all over.  But here ain't nothin' like North Texas, and
those poor people in Oklahoma and Kansas."

"How do you mean?"

Joe g. I.ansdale

"Well, Harry, they ain't got the soil we got here to with.  You can
drop a seed in the ground here and it'll gro Look there, I got a
bite... Damn!  Took the worm off my Danged fish are smarter than you
think."

Grandma pulled up the line and Tom put another on it.

"It was rough up there in North Texas.  One day the then something'
growin' Corn, cotton, peas, and such,

dry.  Didn't no rain come and the ground got crusty as a:

A few clouds floated around to tease us now and then, but wouldn't give
up water.  Finally they quit jokin' us ani went away altogether. 
Everything got baked.  Corn yellow the stalks, ears shriveled up like
caterpillars on a hot pi tin.  Taters rotted in the ground, or when
they were eUdg were like pine knots.  Not fit to eat, even if you boi
from here till next Sunday, put salt and pepper all over I

and beat 'em with a hammer.  Cotton wouldn't grow an4

peas burned up.  i

"Dirt got so dry it turned like face powder.  Wind come all blue
norther and wild, picked up the dirt, made a clot ii it, and blew it
around.  Then there was grit in everything.,-!

teeth, in the crack of your butt, twixt your toes, in your thing you
had to eat and drink.  That ole wind worked from under rocks and sucked
all the goodness out of the S

leavin' just sand that would run through your fingers like

Then there were the grasshoppers."

"We got grasshoppers," Tom said.

here ""Course you do.  But they ain't starvin' to death they ain't
eatin' everything green or brown that's got sore in it.  They came from
all over, them hoppers They ate was left growin'.  Ate the leaves off
the bushes, ate them they call trees up there.  And they was always
getting' in hair.  It was a mess.  Then them dark clouds of dust that h
.,

around got caught up good on the constant wind, and the black as
preacher sin, 'cept for where the sun bled through a bloody, seepin'
head.  All that dirt blowed away, all the topsoil toted off to God
knows where.  Then all them folks started headin' out to California for
pickin' jobs.  Went out in old cars and trucks as worn out as the crops
and the people in 'em."

"Pickin' ?"  I asked.

"Fruit and berries, Harry.  Whatever they got grows out there pickin'. 
There's Okies goin' by the hundreds out that way. Texans too.  I figure
they're just chasin' that dirt blowed away, like chasin' a dream. 
Anyway, they all went west, and I figured I'd go the other way.!"

"What about Aunt Earlene?"

Grandma cast her fresh worm out into the water.

"She and her husband was dead-set for California.  They done been told
it's the Promise Land, and they believe it.  I figured I didn't want to
get that far from Texas.  I want to die in Texas. East Texas anyway. 
Least I'll be in damp ground and not some dusty hole.  I like to think
a worm can live in this dirt, and if it and all its friends eat me,
then I at least get carried all over East Texas."

"That's awful, Grandma."

She laughed.  "Well, I don't think so.  I'd rather be the turds the
worms leave than slow rot in dry ground.  Here the earth's held down by
trees and roots and kept damp by creeks, rivers, and a high-up
waterline.  "Cause of that, I wanted to be here. And I hadn't had no
real time with you and Tom.  Earlene's boys are in their teens, and
they've got plans of their own, and I hope long as I live never to pick
another ball of cotton nor another berry neither, 'less I'm just
pickin' for myself to eat." "I'm almost twelve." "What?"

"You said Aunt Earlene's kids are in their teens.  I'm almost in
mine."

"I suppose he is," Grandma said.  "But your Mama and have kept you
close to the house, Harry.  They ain't work like Earlene's young'ns had
to work and are gonna to work out there in that California.  I think
they won't near as promisin' as they think.  I tried to tell 'em, but
it's business, you know."

"I'll work."

"Know you will.  But you don't need to work like

Why ain't you getting' any school in'?"

"School ain't got a teacher."

"Say it ain't.  Well, I've done some teachin' from time.  Not that my
English is all that good, but it canter when I want it to.  I wasn't
so dead-set on doin' nothin' right now, I'd be your teacher.  I can do
that Back at the house.  We can do readin', wfitin', and without any
ole teacher.  I can teach you and Thomasim things."

"We ain't gonna start right away, are we?"  Tom "Naw."

"Lookee there, Grandma," I said.  "A big ole moccasin."

A black head was poking out of the brown water, close to the bank.  A
moccasin always made my skin

Grandma picked up the shotgun and let loose with one ] rel.  The
moccasin's head disappeared.

"Never could stand those nasty sonsabitches,"

The leaves had fallen on and all around us, almost a blanket.

Tom, full of biscuits, rabbit, and gravy, warmed by the earth and made
cozy by the blowing leaves, curled up and to listen for a while, but
was soon fast asleep. Grandma said, "Ain't she precious." "When she's
asleep."

"Harry, your Daddy sure didn't want to talk about Mose

Is there something' wrong about Mose?"

"No ma'am."

"You're lyin' to me, Harry.  I can tell.  But I bet it's 'cause 're
doin' it for your Daddy.  That's an understandable lie." I didn't
contradict her.  I took a keen interest in my fishing

"Your Daddy wants you to keep a secret, I figure there's a reason. 
Jacob's a good man, if a little hot-tempered." "Daddy?  I ain't never
seen any real temper.  He's fussed at and Tom from time to time.  And
he poured water on my once for sassin' Mama, and we've got some
spankin's for we done, but I ain't never seen him really lose his term
"He's got it.  I guess truth is he ain't hot-tempered, he's just

He don't lose his temper easy, so hot ain't right. But it's a bad one
when it goes off."

I doubted this too, but didn't say anything.

"Hope you don't never see it, 'cause it's an ugly thing.  And hope you
don't have it yourself.  A temper really ain't worth nothin'.  Jacob's
prideful too.  In a good way mostly.  But something's always tamperin'
with your pride, and if you got too much of it, it ain't pride no more.
It's prideful.  Take a fall from that, it's hard to get up.  I've seen
it.  But there ain't no better-meanin' man than your Daddy."

"Grandma.  Do you know Red Woodrow?" "You met him?" "Yes ma'am."

"He used to be one of your Mama's suitors.  She had a lot of 'em.  It
might be hard to figure now, lookin' at me, but so did I in my day. 
But your Mama had them all on a string.  Your Daddy and Red.  But she
met Red first, and they were pretty serious."

"Really serious?"

Joe R. tans dale

"Uh huh.  But Red he had ways.  Just a little off center. said he done
mean things to animals, but I don't know true.  People like to talk,
especially they don't like One thing's for sure, his home wasn't none
too good. poor folks.  Hell, we were all poor and are poorer now most
part.  But his Daddy whupped him, and his Mama to go with the men."

"Mama said he was raised mostly by Miss Maggie?" "What raisin' he got
that woman done it, but he didn much.  She wasn't in any position to do
it, and her being ored, that didn't give her a lot of say.  Red mostly
self up, and it wasn't a good raisin' lots of the time." "Mama said he
had two half-brothers by Miss Ma "That's the story.  I don't know
there's anything to

"When Mama met Daddy, was that when she quit Red?"

"Like I said, she had 'em both on a string.  But met Jacob, there was
sparks.  Then they went on some ride, something' your Mama wasn't
supposed to be on, way.  I'd told her to stay home, but she run off and
didn' ten.  Somehow, Red ended up in the waterin a suck your Daddy
saved him.  After that, Red and your had been good friends, never did
see eye to eye.  And lost interest in Red.  He turned kinda rough.  Or
maybe Red just showed up.  He started tattooin' on his arm the he'd
conquered."

"Conquered?"

"Was intimate with.  You know what I mean, Harry?" "Yes ma'am.  I think
so... He did it himself?  The "Yep.  With something sharp and some
charcoal. their name and a date for when... You know.  It was lookin'
and a crude subject.  He got so he wore his rolled up so you could see
who was on his arm and he done what he did."

"You'd think women wouldn't have nothin' to do with some like that," I
said.

"Men and women are hard to figure, Harry."

"He wears his sleeves rolled down now, even in hot weather." "Good. 
Maybe he ain't so proud of it now."

"Was he like that you think 'cause he was raised hard?" "That sure had
something to do with it.  But let me tell you something'.  Your Daddy,
his family, they weren't so good neither. Jacob turned out good.  So
that ain't no excuse for Red.

Your Daddy's mother died when he was eight years old.  The old man
never did cotton to school in' much, and when the wife died, he took
Jacob out of what school in' he was getting and put him to work in the
cotton fields.  Lot of folks did that back then with their kids, and
they do it now.  Had to make a livin'. It was survival.  But the old
man took to beatin' on your Daddy, and bad.  Once your Daddy got sick
in the cotton fields.  Got hurt actually.  Fell somehow, hit his head
on a rock and blood come out of his ears.  I was a young woman then,
just married to your grandfather, so I heard about it.  I didn't see
it, but knew some did see it, since it happened right out in front of
God and everybody.

"Your Daddy had a spotted pinto pony.  I remember it like it was
yesterday.  He rode it home, and fell off in the yard, he was so hurt. 
Jacob's Daddy took a horse whip, and beat that boy like he stole
something', sent him running back to the fields, chasin' him the whole
way.  And he made Jacob put in a day.

"Your Daddy's Daddy married again.  Or really he took to shackin' up. 
The woman was Red's mother, and Red come to live with them for a time,
and they were like brothers, your Daddy and Red.

"But Red's mother took up with some other fella about nine later, run
off with him, and left Red with the old man and Jacob.  Not that she
ever cared about Red for one moment.  She had a couple other kids too. 
Girls, I think.  They were by Red's

Daddy.  I don't know whatever happened to them.  He some kids by that
colored woman, Miss Maggie.  Or say.

"Your Daddy grew real close to Red.  Kind of a Jacob's Daddy was gonna
beat Red over something', and who was sixteen or seventeen at the time,
picked up a and told his Daddy his beatin' days were over.  And the
backed off.

"So, Jacob saved Red twice.  Once from a beatin', from drownin'.  Jacob
left home that day, and so did Red. long after that Red started seem'
your Mama, then of your Daddy met her and things changed.  They were
like ers, Red and your Daddy, and there ain't nothin' worse or near kin
falliti' out."

"What happened to my Grandpa?  Daddy's Daddy?" "Somebody killed him."

"I never heard Daddy say that." "What's he say about his Daddy?"
"Nothin' ."

"Well, then you ain't heard him say nothin', and nothin' is this
something'.  He was murdered."

"Who done it?" No one knows.  He was found in his bed, his from ear to
ear.  He worked at the sawmill when he wasn't He'd already lost three
fingers there, and he wasn't real money, just scratchin' shit with the
chickens.  So there nothin' there for anyone to rob."  .... "Grandma, I
thought ladies weren't supposed to cuss?. "They aren't.  And it ain't
nice to interrupt a story. was sayin' about your Grandpa.  It's more
likely in my someone killed him because he was a rotten sonofabitch. a
harsh thing to say, Harry, but them's the stone-cold sober I figure he
rode one of them coloreds out at the mill a hard, and the man waited
until he went to bed, slipped cut his throat.  Wasn't nothin' stole no
one knew about.  Then again, wasn't nothin' in the house besides corn
liquor and some crackers anyway.  Whoever done it, it couldn't have
happened to a dirtier bastard than that old man.  He may have been your
Grandpa, Harry, but you're lucky you didn't never have no truck with
him."

"Daddy says when someone's killed, people always think it's a colored. 
It don't have to be a colored killed my Grandpa, does it?"

"No.  "Course not.  But I hope it was.  "Cause he deserved to die by a
colored's hand, way he treated them.  Hell, he just de served to
die."

"Grandma?"

"Yes."

"Was Mama's name tattooed on Red's arm?"

"That isn't something' I'd know about, Harry."

"Grandma, Daddy says you've always been good to colored. He says that
ain't like most folks.  Why do you feel that way?"

"First off, I don't know what good to colored is.  I try to treat
people right, but I'd be a liar I said I treated them just the same.  I
don't spend that much time with them, and I ain't got any real colored
friends.  I don't know that much about the lives of the ones I do know.
So all I can say is I don't hate colored. That's something' worth
sayin', though.  Let me ask you a question

"Okay."

"Do you hate colored?" "No ma'am." "Why don't you?"

"I don't know... I guess Daddy and Mama."

"It was the same for me.  Someone somewhere figured some truth out and
passed it along.  I got it.  Your Mama got it, and you got it.  And
Jacob, well, he once told me how he come his thinkin'."

' "

"He told me the story," I said.

"Did he tell you that we all, no matter what we a little backward now
and then?  Did he tell you something'.

up missin', and there's a white man and a colored man nearby, most of
us are gonna think it's the colored

That he's the one shiftless?  Ain't none of us that

Harry.  We all got a lot of learnin' to do."

"But a colored man could have stole it, couldn't

"He sure could have.  But it ain't the thing to just because he is
colored.  You get what I'm sayin',

"Yes ma'am."

We fished for a time, then Tom woke, shook off ket of leaves, and we
moved to another place.

:'

I was sort of worried Grandma would try to take where Mose was.  I
could tell she was curious about going on there, but she fooled me.  We
stayed the house, even though we changed spots two or three and by
nightfall we had caught a dozen fish or so and had shot the head off
another moccasin.

We got back to the house about supper time.  I

fish, which were mostly hand-sized perch, and them up with hush
puppies.  She also made a pie with serves, Mama not believing it could
be done and taste

We ate the fish, all the while being told to watch by Grandma and Mama,
then We sucked down the pie,

turned out delicious.  Afterward, we went out on the porch to sit or
swing or lie on the floor until we had enough to move again.

ext day the fun was over and we were back to regular.  We did chores,
and after lunch Grandma brought out one of her cardboard suitcases. 
Inside were six books.  The Bible, Ivanhoe, Huckleberry Finn, Last of
the Mohicans, The Red Badge of : Courage, and Call of the Wild.  She
had me read aloud to her i from Ivanhoe.

She kept saying how she just loved being' read to.

When I finished a chapter, it was Tom's turn.  Tom had a lot of trouble
with the words, and I wanted to just go on and read it because the
story was so good, but Grandma insisted Tom do it.  Tom got about
halfway through the chapter and gave up.

Grandma said, "That was real good, Tom.  You just need more time for
the big words."

She gave the book back to me, and I caught on to what was happening. 
We were being schooled.  I didn't say anything.  I

read.  I liked reading.  I liked the book.  Grandma made the Whole
thing fun.  By the afternoon, she asked if Mama, Tom,

me would like to drive into town and visit Daddy at the

).

Joe g. Lansdale

Mama declined the trip, having wash she wanted to and though Grandma
volunteered us to help her, Mama we drive on into town and visit
without her.

We drove along at a fast clip with the windows wind picked up the scent
of the woods and the earth and the car with them.

Grandma said, "I just love the smell of dirt.  I like when it starts to
smell right before a rain.  There's about an oncomin' rain gives the
earth a real fine smell. another thing about North Texas.  Dirt, wet or
dry, right."

We weren't long at the barbershop before Grandma She was willing to
argue with the customers on nearly that came up.  Religion.  Politics. 
Farming.  The even got on Cecil's nerves, and he generally liked to
talk most anything.  She thought he cut hair a little too even
suggested a superior form of wrist movement for! ping his razor.

When she finally tuckered out arguing, she took to one of the pulp
magazines, and pretty soon she was the writing.  I could tell Daddy,
Cecil, and the customers glad when she made up her mind to go over to
the general: and take us with her.

I was nervous about going over to Groon's store, but we got there, he
greeted us like family.  He didn't bring recent encounter with him
except to talk about Mama's late cake.

"She bakes a good'n," Grandma said, pursing her she always put a little
too much sugar in it, and not enoughl to make the icing."

"Oh," Mr.  Groon said.

I'll fix some sometime and bring you a slice," said.

"That would be right nice of you, ma'am," Mr.  Groon my wife died, I
don't do much cooking that matters.  Just a little to get by, and it
ain't worth much."

Grandma bought a few small items.  Staples for Mama: flour,

coffee, cornmeal, and finally a couple of peppermint sticks for me and
Tom.  We went out to the car and placed our boxed items inside, except
for the peppermints, which me and Tom took to sucking right away.

"Ain't there anything else to do around here?"  Grandma asked.

"No ma'am.  Not really.  "Cept go see Miss Maggie.  You was sayin' you
knew her."

"I know who she is, but I don't believe we've ever ex changed words...
Well, hell, let's go see her.  She might be up better for conversation
than these men folks.  They can't stand to be disagreed with.  There
ain't a thing they don't know.  They ain't even half the cussers they
think they are neither."

Since I hadn't heard anyone cuss around Grandma, I wasn't certain how
she had drawn those conclusions, but thought it was a pretty good bet
she could cuss with the best of them.  As for them not knowing as much
as they thought, well, they hadn't had all that much time to express
themselves.  Grandma was al ways talking.

We left her sacks in the car; unlike now, you could do that. It was
rare then, even in hard times, that anyone would steal from you, unless
it was a banker.  There were, of course, the Pretty Boy Floyds of the
world, but it wasn't like now where everything has to be under lock and
key.  A thief was usually from somewhere else other than where you
were.

We came up on Miss Maggie hanging out her wash.  She had on her big
black hat.  She heard us coming, looked over her shoulder.

"Howdy there, Missuh Harry.  And who that you got with you?"

"This is my Grandma," I said.

Jne B. lansdale

"My name's June.  I hear yours is Maggie."

"Yes'm, that's right."

"Don't ma'am me," Grandma said.  "Makes me feel dred years old."

Miss Maggie cackled.  "I am a hundert years old." "Naw you ain't."

"Yes'm.  I am too.  I might be a hundert and two, but I i lost me some
track on it."

"You don't look a day over seventy," Grandma said. you're hangin' out
your drawers."

"Yes'm.  They got to have air'n.  My drawers might need a little extra
air'n."

"Least your drawers ain't wide enough to stretch and on."

Miss Maggie cackled.  "You something', Miss June." There was a basket
full of wash and clothespins the ground.  Grandma plucked out some
clothes, grabbed handful of clothespins.  She put one of the pins in
her and somehow holding three more in one hand, she piece up, grabbed
another and pinned that.

When she had used the pin in her mouth, Grandma been up the barbershop
my son owns, talkin' to the men and I can tell you straight out, ain't
a one of 'em knows a thing."

Maggie grinned.  "Ain't that the truth, Miss June." Grandma grabbed
more wash and started hanging. think they know everything there is to
know, but they know which end of themselves the crap comes out of." 
"

Miss Maggie laughed.  "You is one cutup, Miss June. you is."

lgi

A short time later we were sitting in Miss Maggie's house, at the
table, eating buttermilk pie, and Grandma and Miss Maggie were arguing
over a chocolate and buttermilk pie recipe.  I had never heard of such
a combination, but then again, I'd never had fig preserve pie until the
night before either, and it had been like a slice of heaven.

It was hot in there because of the wood stove.  The front door was
open, and I could see out the screen.  There were no flies this day,
but in the distance I could see a black and yellow butterfly playing
above the hog pen.  I was seeing it and not seeing it.  I was thinking
about Ivanhoe.

Pretty soon Grandma and Miss Maggie were up cooking together, arguing
all the while, banging pans, pouring this and that, Miss Maggie showing
Grandma where the cooking stuff she needed was, and telling her what's
what on how to use it.

Grandma told her how she had been cooking for over sixty years, and
Miss Maggie said how she started cooking regular when she was four, and
hadn't never stopped, and how she was a hundred years old or more.

Grandma sideswiped that by telling how she'd cooked for twenty men at a
time, and Miss Maggie upped that one by telling how she used to cook
for a logging company, cooking for well over three hundred men, three
times a day, breakfast, dinner, and supper.

Before too long, both of them, covered in flour and sugar, were poking
pies in the oven, building up the wood, stoking the fire, and letting
the pies bake.

They went outside and brushed flour off, came back in, sat at the
table, and went right back to it.

"You done put your buttermilk in too heavy," Miss Maggie said.

"You poured in too little," Grandma said.  "Pie'll be dry."

"You got too much buttermilk, you can't taste the chocolate right."

"Use too little, you might as well have done gone baked a chocolate
pie."

"Hard as chocolate is to come by, you got to play some, add a little
ginger to give it a right taste."

"Ginger don't help chocolate none at all," Grandma "We'll just sit here
and wait on them done pies,"

gie said.

While we waited, Miss Maggie said, "That boy there told you about seem'
that Goat Man?"

Grandma looked at me and raised an eyebrow.  "Goat "Yes ma'am," I said.
"Me and Tom seen it." "Now, I know you probably didn't want nothing
wanted your Grandma to know there's been things goin' them bottoms. 
She'd want to watch for you."

"I heard there was some murders," Grandma said. "Uh huh," Miss Maggie
said.  "But they wasn't just no mon murders.  And I ain't talkin' out
of school here, said, looking at me, "it's all over colored town here,
and in Pearl Creek, which ain't nothin' but coloreds.  This one of them
funny murderers.  A Travelin' Man, maybe." "Travelin' Man?"  Grandma
asked.

Miss Maggie told her the story she had told me, but a ca ted version.

"Ah, tush, ain't no such business," Grandma said.

"Well, that boy there, he done see the Goat Man

And that Goat Man is probably a Travelin' Man." Grandma looked at me.

"Just like I said, Grandma.  Me and Tom seen it.  It horns."

"You must have seen something' else and thought it Goat Man."

I shook my head.  "No ma'am."

Grandma pursed her lips.  "Well, you say you seen a then that's what
you think you seen.  I haven't got any on that.  But that don't mean
that's what it was."

"Whatever you believe, you best keep them young'ns out af them woods,"
Miss Maggie said.  "Well, I do believe them is ready."

Tom and me was set up as judge, and they were both delicious neither
better than the other, just different.  We declared it a tie.  Both
Grandma and Miss Maggie were happy with that. We ate half of each pie. 
Then Grandma said we had to go.  Miss Maggie put all the pie in one
metal pan and wrapped it with brown paper.

"This way, you got to bring my pan back," Miss Maggie said, "and I
could sure tolerate the company.  I like my mule, but ole mule doesn't
say much."

"Kind of like some men I've known," Grandma said.

Miss Maggie chuckled over that.  We got our pie, said our goodbyes, and
went out of there.

On the way home Grandma drove a little more slowly than usual, which
was good news for a couple of slow stray dogs and a startled
squirrel.

Grandma quizzed me about the murders.  I told her what I knew.  Like
Miss Maggie said, wasn't any of it a secret, and she'd done told
Grandma pretty much what I knew.  I even told her about the body I
found, and before I could help myself, I Was telling her about being on
the roof of that icehouse, looking down, seeing that poor dead
woman.

"Well, now," Grandma said.  "This ain't nobody getting' off a train at
random, 'less they're somebody lives close, catches that train to get
into the area where they can do what they want to do.  How many random
hoboes you think gonna come through and do the same thing?"

"I don't know Daddy thinks that," I said.  "Whites are sure a colored
is doin' it."

"Wait a minute.  That's what's goin' on with Mose, Somebody thinks he
did them murders.  That's why your so hush-hush about him... Ain't that
it, boy?"

"I don't know," I said.  ,

"You just said yes," Grandma said.  "You don't tell" worth a damn."

I thought about what she had said about Red's Mama.  Neither did she.

Late that afternoon, when Daddy got home,

laying for him.  She kind of directed him onto the back porch with
Mama, and I sidled over to the door to listen. a moment, Tom saw me and
asked what I was doin'.  I her and waved her over.  We both put our ear
to the door.

We couldn't catch all that was being said, but I could my name coming
up, and Grandma explaining I wouldn'i her nothing, but she said she
"deduced it from

I heard them moving toward the door.  Me and Tom slidi to thetable and
sat down.  When Mama, Daddy, and came in we were sitting there, our
hands folded in front

Daddy looked at us and said, "Y'all just sittin'?"

"Yes sir," Tom said.  "We was talkin'."

"Say you were," Daddy said.  He reached over and by the shoulder. 
"Come with me."

We went out the front door and started walking road.  Daddy said,
"Grandma told me she figured out Mose."

"Yes sir."

"She said you didn't tell her nothin'."

"No sir."

"I want you to know I believe that.  You can't hide a darn from that
woman.  Too nosy, and too smart."

"She's a lot of fun, Daddy."

"In some ways," Daddy said.  "I want you to know I appreciate you
tryin' to not let your Grandma know, and I want you to know I know you
kept shut about it."

"Yes sir."  I was actually thinking: well, mostly.

"You hungry?"

"Yes sir," I said, even though I was still full of pie.

"Let's walk back and see if we can get Mama to rustle us up some
supper."

 t must have been about two days later, early before daylight, when we
were awakened on the porch by a pounding on the front door.  It sounded
as one had a log and was ramming it.  It didn't even budge who could
sleep sound as a fence post.

i:'

I leaped up, pulling on my overalls, and ran into the

Daddy was already there, one overall strap in place, the 4

" dangling, a pistol in his hand.  He went to the window,

out, grabbed up a lantern, lit it, and with his pistol in his overall
pocket, opened the door.

In the distance we heard a car gun.  I looked out the dow.  Down the
road I saw taillights.  One of the lights had busted, showing both
tinted red glass and raw yellow light.

car sped from sight, dust swirled up to be tinted by the red

: yellow, then that was gone, and there was only the moon to illuminate the
dust, make it gold and fairy-like till it the ground.

I saw Toby, who wasn't quite as alert as he had once come limping
around the side of the house, barking shrill lg7

tion of the car, then made his way back to the house, looking
embarrassed.

Stuck in the door with a red-handled pocketknife was a note. Daddy
pulled the knife out and brought the note inside.  He lay the note on
thetable and looked at it while he folded up the red-handled
pocketknife and dropped it in his overalls next to the pistol.

Mama drifted in from the bedroom, her hair hanging, her face marked
with concern.  She looked at the note.  So did I. It had been written
in thick black pencil.  It said:

MOSE IS IN TROUBLE.  YOU OUGHT TO GO SEE TO

IT.

Daddy didn't say a word, he just hurried to get his shoes.  I went out
on the back porch and put on my own, slipped out the back way, got in
the car, lay down in the back floorboard, up close to the seat.

It wasn't a couple minutes before I heard the car door open and slam,
heard Mama yell, "Jacob, you be careful.  It could be some kind of
setup."  Then the car was rolling.

I knew I had fixed myself up for a well-deserved walloping, but I felt
as if I was a vital piece in these events, and to not have me in on it
was play inga checker game without all the checkers.

After a while, the car bumped and slammed, and I was banged up and down
hard enough to bruise my fibs.  I knew then we was off the main road,
on the path that led to the river and Mose's shack.  Eventually the
motor quit and Daddy got out.

I waited a moment, sat up, looked over the seat, out the windshield. 
We were parked near the river, up the path a piece from Mose's shack.

It was early morning still, and the rising ruby and amber sunlight"
tumbled through the trees like nectar busted from exotic overripe
fruits.

In front of Mose's shack and beside it was full of ons, horses, mules,
and people.  The river was stained morning sun, and the people in the
yard were stained colors as the sky and the river.

I recognized a number of folks in the crowd.

friends of my Daddy.  Many of the others I had seen suspect there were
nigh on forty people there.

The crowd broke open, and out of it came Mr.

two boys, and some other man I'd seen around town

': didn't know.  They had Mose between them.  He was

:.

dragged.  I heard Mr.  Nation's loud voice say something

"damn nigger," then Daddy was pushing through the

A heavyset woman in a print dress and square-lookin dark hair knotted
on top of her head, yelled, "Hang

I don't actually remember getting out of the car,

demy I was down there in the middle of the crowd,

Daddy.  When he looked down and saw me, his eyes went but he didn't
have the time to deal with me.

"Hold on here," Daddy was saying.

The crowd closed around us, except for a gap that so Mr.  Nation and
his bunch could drag Mose into the

,

Mose looked ancient, withered and knotted like old soaked in brine. 
His head was bleeding, his eyes were his lips were split.

When Mose saw Daddy, his green eyes lit up.

don't let them do nothin'.  I didn't do nothin' to nobody.

said I was gonna be all right."

"It's all right, Mose," he said.  Then he glared at Mr.

tion.  "Nation, this ain't your business."

"It's all our business," Nation said.  "When our women can't walk
around without worrying about some nigger gin' 'em off, then it's our
business."

There was a voice of agreement from the crowd.

"I only picked him up 'cause he might know something lead to the
killer," Daddy said.  "I let him go."

"Bill here says he had that woman's purse," Nation said. A couple of
men in the crowd stepped aside, and there was

Smoote.  He stood wringing his hands, looking like a boy had been
caught pulling his rope to a underwear picture the Sears and Roebuck.

"Bill, you sonofabitch," Daddy said.

"Boy was with me that day I chained him," Mr.  Smoote

"He's the one told."

"And because you're such a Samaritan, you come out here stop it," Daddy
said.

Mr.  Smoote said, "I come here to see justice.  I shouldn't'a hid him
out.  And wouldn't have, had you not been the law."

"Justice?"  Daddy said.  "This is a lynch mob.  Justice is a day in
court."

Mr.  Nation grinned.  "Who you think's gonna be the jurors, Mr.  High
and Mighty?  Let's just save the time and money of a trial, right here,
right now."

"I'm the law here," Daddy said. "Not today, you ain't," Nation said.
"Let him go."

"In the old days, we took care of bad niggers prompt like," Nation
said.  "And we figured out something' real quick.  A nigger hurt a white
man or woman, you hung him, he didn't hurt anyone again.  You got to
take care of a nigger problem quick, or ever nigger around here will be
thinkin' he can rape and murder white women at will."

The crowd grew tighter around us.  I turned to look for Mr. Srnoote,
but he was gone from sight.

"There's no evidence against him," Daddy said.

"Had her purse, didn't he?"

"That doesn't mean he killed her to get it."

Mr.  Nation said, "You ain't so high and mighty now, are

Joe g. Lansdaie you, Jacob.  You and your nigger-lovin' ways aren't the
mustard around here."

"Don't take your personal grudge on me out on Mose. him loose."

"He ain't gonna be turned loose, except at the end rope."

"You're not gonna hang this man," Daddy said.

"That's funny," Nation said.  "I thought that's exactly we were gonna
do."

"This ain't the Wild West," Daddy said.

"No.  This here is a riverbank with trees, and we rope and a bad
nigger."

"He's an old man," Daddy said.

"Yeah," someone in the crowd said, "and he ain't no older."

One of Nation's boys had slipped off while Daddy Nation were talking,
and when he reappeared, he had a tied in a noose.  He slipped it over
Mose's head.

"Please, Missuh Jacob," Mose said.  "I ain't hurt "I know," Daddy said.
He stepped forward then, rope off Mose.  The crowd let out a sound
like an pain, then they were all over Daddy, punching and tried to
fight them, but they hit me too.  Next thing I was on the ground and
legs were kicking at us, then Mose scream for Daddy.  When I looked up
they had the around the old man's neck and were dragging him ground,
him clutching at the rope with his hands, his old making ruts in the
muddy grass on the riverbank.

Daddy and I got up and staggered after the crowd. was starting to close
where someone had kicked me.  Ii Daddy reach in his pocket for his
pistol, but his hand fumbling.  He looked around on the ground, but if
the pistol fallen out, someone had picked it up.

"Stop," Daddy yelled.  "Stop it, goddammit!"

They dragged Mose over to a clutch of oaks.  One man threw the rope
over a thick oak limb.  In unison the crowd grabbed it and began to
pull, hoisting Mose up.  The rope slid over the limb like a snake, made
a cutting sound.  Hemp puffed up smoke as it rubbed tight against oak
bark.  The limb creaked.  Mose pulled at the rope with his hands,
trying to work it free of his throat.  He couldn't get his fingers
between it and his neck.  His feet kicked.

Daddy staggered forward, grabbed Mose's legs, ducked his head under,
and lifted him.  Nation blindsided Daddy with a kick to the ribs. 
Daddy went down and Mose dropped with a snap ping sound, started to
kick fast and spit blood-tinted foam.  His eyes turned red and his face
puffed.  Daddy tried to get up, but the crowd began to kick and beat
him.

I ran at them, yelling, swinging, striking anyone I could hit. Someone
clipped me in the back of the neck.  The world jerked and I couldn't
stand.  I couldn't kneel.  I couldn't do much of any thing.  I saw the
sky going up fast through the limbs and leaves of the oak, then I was
looking up at the bottoms of Mose's feet. Last thing I saw were holes
in Mose's shoes and cardboard in side them to plug the holes; it had
gone damp and was starting to come apart.  I could see the flesh of his
foot through one of the holes where the cardboard had torn and slipped.
The hole was directly over me.  It seemed to widen and drop around me,
then I was lost within it.

When I came to Daddy was still unconscious, on the ground near me. 
Mose hung above us, his tongue long and black and thick as a sock
stuffed with paper.  His eyes bulged out of his head like little green
persimmons.  Someone had pulled his pants down and cut him.  Blood
dripped from between Mose's legs, onto the ground.

The crowd was gone.

On hands and knees I threw up until I didn't third any more in me. 
Hands grabbed my sides.  I was figufi crowd had come back and were
gonna hang me and Dac give us more of a beating.  Then I heard Mr. 
Smoote say, I boy.  Easy."

He tried to help me up, but I couldn't stand.  He left ring on the
ground and went over and looked at Da&i turned him over and pulled an
eyelid back.

"You did this," I yelled at Smoote.  "You leave my alone.  You hear? 
Leave him alone!"  ,.i

He ignored me, and suddenly I was glad for his assi I said, "Is he...
?"

"He's all right.  Just took some good shots."

Daddy stirred.  Mr.  Smoote sat him up.  Daddy open eyes.

"That boy told," Mr.  Smoote said.  "I come with 'ent didn't mean for
nothin' to happen.  I didn't try and hang

You ain't gonna tell about.."  you know, are you?"

"You stupid, simple sonofabitch," Daddy said.  Then turned to Mose.  He
said, "For Christ sake, Bill, cut him from there."

we afternoons later Mose was buried on our place, between the am and
the field.  Daddy made him a wooden cross and carved MOSE on it, swore
when he got money he'd get him a stone.

A couple black folks Daddy knew who knew Mose came but the only whites
there were our family.  There was some didn't have no track with what
was done to Mose, but they didn't want it known they'd show up at a
colored man's funeral.

At night, when I closed my eyes, I saw Mose hanging, his pants down,
cut, bleeding, his eyes and tongue bulged, that rope around his neck. 
It would be some time before I could lay down and not have that image
jump immediately to mind, and some years before it didn't come back to
me on a regular basis.  Funny things would set it off.  Just see inga
rope, or a certain kind of limb on an oak, or even the way sunlight
might be falling through limbs and leaves.

Even now, from time to time, it comes back to me clear, as if it
happened day before yesterday.

from my window is a view of a great oak tree.  One evening, in early
spring, propped in a wheelchair, looking out, just as shadows fell like
tangles of black and blue cloth, as the birds gathered in the boughs of
the oak like Christmas or preparing for sleep, I thought I saw Old Mose
hang there.

His body seemed very real in that moment, a twisting shadow

st other shadows, but it was clearly his shape, and there was the dark
line of the rope.  But when I blinked, he and the '. rope were gone.

There were now only the shadows beneath the tree filled with birds, and
there was the night descending, and another day of spring was slowly
draining away i No shadows now, not even beneath the trees.

Joe g. Lansdale

Daddy wanted to quit be inga constable, but the little the job brought
in was needed too badly, so he stayed swearing anything like this came
up again he was gonna

But for the most part he had quit.  He was constable in only.  It was
as if he were fading right before our eyes. been washed out to some
dark and infernal sea, and floundered, then ceased to flounder, merely
drifted on a crumbling plank left from the wreck of his life.  His ing
crashed and shattered upon a reef named Mose.

Many of those at the lynching had been Daddy's customers, and we didn't
see them anymore at the shop. the rest, Cecil cut most of the hair, and
Daddy was little of it, he finally gave Cecil a bigger slice of the and
only came around now and then.  He turned his working around the farm,
fishing and hunting, and not much of any of those.

Mama and Grandma tried everything to bring him Patience.  Anger. 
Encouraging words.  Right out mean They could have been talking to a
duck.  Only the duck have startled at least.

When spring came, Daddy showed minor "

went to planting, just like always, but he didn't talk crops, and I
didn't hear him and Mama talking much, but times late at night, through
the wall, I could hear him cry. no way to explain how bad it hurts to
hear your father

Daddy stayed in the bedroom a lot.  He mostly ate his alone, when he
ate.  He spoke, but the words were dry and kled, like dead leaves.  If
he sat outside, and saw us got up and moved away, as if we had caught
him doing thing embarrassing.

The house changed.  It had never occurred to me before but a house is a
shell like a body, and like a body, it's the inside it that makes it
whole.  And if we, the family, spirit, part of us, a great and powerful
part of us, was

Grass actually began to grow up through the porch, and the Ird ground
around the house began to fall off and wash away d turn to sand.  The
well water tasted less sweet.  Wild dogs killed our chickens.

Only Grandma was a light in the dark.  She was ever energetic, tried to
be fun, but Daddy's darkness hung over the house like a tree about to
fall.  One day, as we put flowers on Mose's grave, Toby limping along
beside us, I asked Grandma if Daddy would soon be better.

" She thought about it before she answered.  That was unusual for her. 
She was usually quick to respond, and knew exactly what she thought
about a matter, exactly what she wanted to

She put her arm around me.  "I believe he will, Harry.  But your
Daddy's received a blow.  It's not all that different than a fellow I
knew named Boris Smith out there in North Texas.  He was kicked in the
head by a mule.  He didn't change right out, but he got sort of strange
and stayed that way a long time.  One day, he brightened and came out
of it."

"What made him better?"

"Well, for one thing, the mule died.  That cheered him up. But I don't
think it was that simple."

"You think Daddy got hit too hard by them folks?"

"You were both hit too hard.  But no, that's not what I mean. Your
Daddy got kicked in the soul, sweetheart.  So did you.  But you're
young enough to see daylight.  Jacob ought to be, but I think the kick
to him was a little harder.  He felt he saw it coming and stepped right
into it."

"But he'll be all right?"

"I'm gonna tell you I think so.  But I ain't gonna lie to you, Harry. 
I don't know.  Boris, he got all right in time.  But it took long time.
His was a physical injury, so you might say it's to recover from that.
I'm not so sure.  A kick in the soul can take it all out of you
forever.  Lot of them Dust Bowl folks just pretty much laid down and
quit.  Most of them took a went somewhere to try again.  They had hope.
Some of find out their hope ain't hope, just a lie, and they'll and
quit.  Some of them will get up and try again.  Your like that.  If he
can get up, he will.  I just don't know

"It's like everything's fallin' apart," I said. ,

"I know," Grandma said.  "But we've got to be only for your Daddy, but
for the family.  You and me,

pull this through."

"Think so?"

"I do."

"How?"

Grandma was quiet for a moment.  "I don't know but these murders, all
this business with Mose,

nected in more ways than one.  I know your Daddy trust, Harry, but now
might be the time to break that.

gone.  I know about the murders.  Is there anything me?  Maybe I can
help.  And if we can help, that sure

:: your Daddy."

She was right.  I had kept my word, and now it me it was no longer
necessary.  I told her all that I

choose, however, to leave out the part about Mr.

daughter.

When I finished telling her the story, Grandma said, Nation.  He seems
to pop up at all this business.  And boys.  You say they're just like
him?"

"Except even more snivelin'."

"Miss Maggie, I bet she knows a little something' on body in town. 
Wouldn't you say?" "Yes ma'am." "Come on then."

Grandma drove her car over to Miss Maggie's place.  Miss was sitting on
the back porch fanning herself with a fan.  When she saw us come up,
she grinned around the she had left.

i "Well now, if it ain't Miss June."

"Howdy, Maggie," Grandma said.  "You got any coffee on?" "No, I ain't,
but I can sure git it on."

Grandma and Miss Maggie had theirs black.  Miss Maggie me a half cup,
put cream in it out of a can, and a lot sugar.  She placed it on a
cracked saucer.  We took our cofout on Miss Maggie's porch.

Grandma talked about some general things, then skillfully the
conversation to the Nations.

"Them Nations," Miss Maggie said.  "They's a bad lot.  But cowards. 
They throwed Old Man Nation out of the Klan he too stupid."

"That tells us something'," Grandma said.  "It ain't like you're with a
bunch of Edisons there in the first place." "Oh, they's people in ole
Klan you wouldn't believe.  I use'ta for a white man was Klan, and he
was right smart and as nice to me as could be.  But he in the Klan. 
Cleanin' his

I fount his robes.  He go on to make a judge." "Another kind of robe,"
Grandma said. "Uh huh," Miss Maggie said.

Maggie, Grandma said, I'm gonna tell you something that s ' Supposed to
just be family business.  But I'm gonna tell you about it, 'cause I
think I can trust you, and maybe you can help me

Harry here out.  His Daddy, this thing with Mose--"

"Po ole Mose."

"Yeah," Grandma said.  "Well, Jacob, he's a good man--" "Oh, Lord yes. 
I know Missuh Jacob done all he could.  He a bit like his Daddy."

"You knew his father?"  Grandma said.

 212

"Yes'm, I knew him.  Real well.  No disrespect to being' his
grandfather and all.  But I don't miss him "No one else is missin' him
much either," "There's peckerwoods right proud of themselves, and
getting' 'em an old nigger can hardly stand up him.  No disrespect to
you and Missuh Harry." None taken.  Wasn't any way Mose did any of
this." him too.  Many years ago.  Me and my husband used to him.  He
taught Jacob and Harry both to fish."

"He thought a lot of Missuh Jacob and Missuh used to come see me
sometime."

I noticed that Miss Maggie's eyes were teary. "Me and him was kind of
together oncet.  After his off.  But his boy needed him a lot.  Wasn't
right in Liked to run off and live in the woods.  I tole him ter none. 
Me and him could take care of that boy him.  But he didn't want to move
off from down there river, and I just couldn't do it.  Go there, I
mean.  I got here.  Then the boy disappeared, and there was them 'bout
Mose kinin' him, or some such.  But wasn't nothin We didn't never go
back like we was, but he stopped time to time.  You know what I
mean."

"I know," Grandma said.

I didn't.  I thought about it, I guessed maybe he like us now and then
for coffee.

"I wish't I coulda gone to his fun'ral."

"We didn't know who to invite," Grandma said. folks Jacob knew who knew
him come out.  We'd have we'd have come got you."

"I 'preciate that.  They's lots of things 'bout me I ain't no point on,
though.  So ain't no way you'd have

"Don't suppose you have any idea who could have. these murders.  Ones
Mose was blamed for."

"I knew, I'd said other time we was talkin'."

"Not even rumors?"

"Rumors was what got Mose hung up like that."

"I see your point."

"I think it be a Travelin' Man, just like me and Missuh Harry about."

"And if it isn't a Travelin' Man?"

"Anyone could be a Travelin' Man, he sell his soul, I'd keep eye on
them Nations.  One of them boys... Don't rememwhich'n, but one of 'em
is crazy.  They all crazy, but he's craziest.  Starts fires.  Raped
couple colored gals in the past folks know 'bout.  Wasn't nothin' could
be done 'bout it. one wanted to do nothin' 'bout it.  Missuh Jacob, he
tried, the girls and their families wouldn't talk.  Klan done come see
'em, tole 'em it best jest to stay hush of it.  There's a lit:
light-faced, freckled colored boy over there on the other side the
river belong to a girl ain't no more than sixteen.  She was when it
happened.  That boy, he a Nation's child.  Old

Nation, he thought it was funny.  Just his boy sowin' his on a nigger. 
And ain't none of what I'm tellin' you is rumor.

know it... These ain't things to be talkin' in front a boy."

"Normally, I'd agree with you," Grandma said.  "But me and want to find
who's doin' all these murders.  We got to do

Jacob, he's not doin' so good now.  Life isn't treatin' him good.  He
sees this as his fault."

"I don't know we want to be meddlin' with no Travelin'

Man.

And I'll tell you now, you ain't never gonna set things Ain't nothin'
'round here ever gonna be on the plumb."

"Come on, Maggie.  It's a flesh-and-blood man done this.  I

thinking maybe you could ask around.  You know people I

"You mean coloreds."

"I'm not privy to them.  I don't want nothin' from nobody

Lansdale except to boil down all the lard, and get to the bottom

Find out who's kinin' these women."

"I do what I can.  You drink another cup of coffee?"

"I surely would," Grandma said.

"Miss Maggie," I said.  "You know Red Woodrow,

you?"

"Course I knew the answer, but I wanted her take on

"I do."

"He hasn't been a big help," Grandma said.  "He didn'

Jacob meddlin' in dead colored business."

"That what he said?"  Miss Maggie asked. i:

I told her what I had heard when he spoke to

: then when he spoke to Mama.

"Little Man," Miss Maggie said.  "Everythingain't

, as it looks all the time.  I prac'ly raised that boy.  He ter than
that... Red, he come here to see me from time

Brings me groceries."

"Red does?"  I said.  "Red Woodrow?"

"He the one," Miss Maggie said.

Grandma and I sat silently for a time.

"Things he says..."  I said.

"Sometimes folks mouth-say things they hear,

that's what talk for how they really is."

,!.

"And how does his heart talk?"  Grandma asked.  "His'i seems to want to
keep Jacob out of finding out who done things."

"I ain't gonna talk on it anymore," Miss Maggie said.

demy it had grown uncomfortable on the porch; it was wave of cold air
had blown in, wrapped around us,

squeezing us like a jungle snake.

"I need to go on and rest," Miss Maggie said.  She slowly.  She didn't
mention the coffee again.  We returned our cups to thetable inside. 
Miss Maggie behind a curtain that she had hung up to separate her and
eating quarters from where she slept.  She went behind the curtain and
didn't come out.

We left, closed the door quietly, and walked back to the car.

On the way home in the car, Grandma and I talked awhile. "What was
wrong with Miss Maggie?"  I asked.

"I don't know, Harry.  But it might be something' we ought to know."

"And it might be meddlin', Grandma."

"You're right about that.  It's a surprise to me.  I didn't mean to
hurt her feelings.  I guess, having helped raise Red she's got an
investment there.  And knowing how he turned out..." "He brings her
groceries."

"He cares for her, Harry, but that doesn't mean he sees her as a full
person.  People feed and water mules, but that doesn't mean they value
their opinion."

"They don't have an opinion."

"Yes, but humans do.  Tell you what.  Let's put this Miss Maggie
business aside, and figure what we do know.  You stop me I get any of
it wrong, or it ain't the way you see it.  Murderer ties his victims
up.  Sometimes in kinda odd ways.  He's killed three women we know
about, maybe four.  Is that the way it is?"

"Yes ma'am.  I think so."

"And they're all colored?  Except for one.  They were all put in the
river or were found near it."

"Except for the one blown around by the tornado, but she Could have
come from the river.  Storm went through there, so it makes sense."

"The colored doctor you was tellin' me about..."

"Doc Tinn."

"Doctor Tinn thinks whoever kills these women to bother their bodies. 
How am I doin' so far?"

"Okay."

"Question is, why?"

"Killer's crazy?"

"Somethin' to that, I guess, Harry.  But if you had why, then you could
maybe ease in on who's doin' it. there may not be any reason.  But I'm
one of them thinks damn near a reason behind everything.  Even crazy
folks sons.  They may not be logical to us, but there's some kind
sonin' there.  I guess unless you're so damn crazy you don'! who you
are or what day it is.  But a fella like this, he's here amongst us,
seemin' normal.  So something' sets him there's some kind of thing
cookin' in his head that seem logical.  And maybe he can't help
himself.  He might want to do it.  Another thing is, we got to figure
it's the river or can get to it easy.  Someone who knows the there, or
how to get these women off by themselves. bound to have seen
something'."

"Mose was like that," I said.

"Like what?"

"He lived by and liked the river."

"So he did."

"And there ain't been another murder since he was

Grandma nodded.  "But you and me don't think it was do we?"

"No ma'am, not really.  Be easier if it was." "In a way.  Then again,
that may be why your worse and worse.  He don't want no one murdered,
but to wonder, it's all stopped now, so was it Mose?  Was protectin' a
guilty man?  And he's got to wonder too, if it Mose, who is it?  And if
he'd caught the real culprit, none of this happened to the old man."

"Guess Daddy mentioning at the Halloween party that was arrested kind
of got the ball rolling.  That's why he so guilty."

"Yeah, but he didn't say who he had or where they was, did

"No ma'am."

"Mr.  Smoote, or the boy helped put on Mose's chains, or of 'em, could
have talked, couldn't they?  And probably

That solves how anyone knew Mose was a suspect and he was being kept. 
We don't have to think on that one hard.  Either by intention or
stupidity, they couldn't keep mouths shut.  Next thing is someone comes
by and warns

Mose is going to be hung.  Who would do that?"

I shook my head.

She continued.  "Could be someone got the word, wanted to the old man. 
That's the obvious idea, now ain't it?"

"Yes'm."

"But say it's the murderer, and he wants to save Mose 'cause knows Mose
ain't the one?"

"But why would a murderer save Mose?"  I asked.  "That just what he'd
want, someone else to take the blame."

"Maybe the murderer can't help himself.  He's driven by something' else.
He don't want no one else to take the blame... This Groon.  Maybe he
warned your Daddy."

"He could have."

"Maybe he heard and wanted to help your Daddy and Mose out.  Maybe he
didn't want to see an innocent man die for something he knew the fellow
didn't do." ""Cause he did it?"

"I ain't sayin', just speculatin'."

"But Mr.  Groon?"

"Again, I'm just speculatin'.  I've read some detective books,

if there's one thing I know from them, it's everyone is a

Excluding me and you, Tom, your Mama and Daddy,

of course.  Think about this.  You didn't expect

Groon to be in the Klan either, did you?"

"No."

"Another thing.  Groon.  Ain't that a Jewish name?" "I don't know."

"I knew some Groons out in West Texas, and I was Jewish.  Name sounds
German, but it ain't.  It's

I guess this fella you're talkin' about could be German, folks I knew
weren't German.  They was practicin'

this here Groon is a Jew, won't that be ironic?" "Ironic?"

"Kind of plays back on itself.  That's what it see, Klan don't like
Jews neither.  But this fella, the community so long, they don't even
consider Probably goes to a Christian church."

"He's a Baptist, like Mama," I said.

"You said you saw a car with a busted taillight after leavin' the
note?"

"Yes ma'am."

We drove along in silence for a moment, then

"I'm tumin' this bucket around."

We drove to Groon's store.  Out back of it,

pecan tree, his black Ford was parked.  Grandma eased hind it and
stopped.  She leaned toward the windshield, her eyes for a look.

"He's got both taillights," she said.  "Could have Wouldn't take much. 
I've fixed a taillight myself.

he get parts for a taillight around here, Harry?" "There ain't a garage
here," I said. "Who mechanics?"

"Everyone 'round here pretty much does his own said.  "It's something
serious, they take it to Tyler.  That's he'd have to get parts."

"Less he had some spares," Grandma said.  "And he's sure plenty of time
to fix it."

"Yes ma'am.  I guess so."

"We ain't getting' anywhere, are we, boy?"

"NO ma'am."

"You say this Doc Tinn had some ideas on this kind of

"He seemed real smart, Grandma.  Lot smarter than Doc son."

"Why don't we go see him?"

"I don't know, Grandma... I mean, you know, a white in colored town,
talkin' to a colored man."

"I can take care of myself."

"Yes ma'am... I mean, Doc Tinn.  You and him talkin', and being'
colored and thought to be uppity 'cause he's smart a doctor... Bad
words gets out... It could be like Mose." "You got a point, Harry.  But
I'm thinkin' selfish.  I want to

Jacob.  And we ain't gonna get Doc Tinn in no trouble... Treesome still
there, runs the general store?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then there's a way."

Grandma turned the car around, and we headed for Pearl

,. ,e drove over to Pearl Creek, and as we neared said, "Here's how
we'll do it, Harry.  We'll go to eral store.  Say we're low on gas,
which we are, and some.  We'll go in the store and get soda pops, but
do that, you run over to Doc Tinn's place... Said it right?"

"Yes ma' am."

",

"You run over there, and you tell him I'd like with him at the store. 
Bring his wife if he wants.

ain't nobody gonna blame him for messin' with me.

to the store, I want to ask him some questions only I

can answer.  Tell him we're tryin' to clear Mose's help Jacob.  We're
tryin' to get the real killer.  Okay?"

We arrived in Pearl Creek just as black rain rolling in.  Their shadows
fell over the road and over eral store, moved on, were followed by even
darker that pooled over everything and hung there.

"That's what I meant about East Texas," Grandma ting out of the car. 
"You don't go long without rain."

only it wasn't raining, just clouding.  I went inside and to Pappy
Treesome.  He took me out back and filled me with gas.  He walked with
me around front, jerking his this way and that.  When he saw Grandma
they hugged. "How're you doin', you ole horse thief," Grandma said. He
was wearing his store-bought teeth today, so I could him, even if there
was an occasional click and pop the teeth slipping. "I was real young
when I stole that horse," Pappy said. "When you was young is farther
back than I can count,"

said.

While they were talking, I eased off to Doc Tinn's place,

Grandma went up the steps into the general store with

I heard Pappy's plump wife, Camilla, yell out, "Ah, June, you ain't
aged a day."

"Uh huh," I heard Grandma say, "and neither has no one

I went over to Doc Tinn's house and knocked on the door.

wife answered.  She said, "Yes, sir."

I explained who I was and asked if I might see Doc Tinn, he wasn't
busy.  He wasn't.  She let me in the house and Doc was sitting in a
rocking chair in the living room, re ada book.  He put the book in his
lap, smiled at me. "How're you, little sir?  How's your Daddy?" "That's
what I've come to see you about," I said.

Doc Tinn and his wife, both dressed as if going to church, with me to
the general store.  Inside Grandma was chat with Pappy and Camilla. 
Pappy was his usual jerky self, behind the counter, his upper body
wagging off in direction, only to be pulled in the other as if by
unseen

Camilla was on our side of the counter, wearin made of enough potato
sacks to have contained all i potatoes in the county and a pretty good
batch of potato crop.  She was sitting on a stool laughing at Grandma
had just said.

The sacks her dress were made from had been and dyed blue, but the
bleach hadn't done a good dye hadn't taken, or was washed out; her
outfit had leaving the faint impression of a potato sack brand the top
of her butt; the words reminded me of bugs rolling hocks of a pig on
the run.

Camilla's hair was highly greased and two long needles were plunged
through a knot at the top of the light caught the tips of the needles,
sparkles " gesting extreme sharpness.  Rumor was, Camilla wore ting
needles for self-defense.

Grandma was sitting on the stool next to enough they could exchange
elbow jabs between marks.  All three were drinking Co'-Colas.

I introduced Grandma to Doc Tinn and his wife, ually Grandma eased away
from her friends toward and we sat where Daddy and I had sat the day he
to look at the body.  I took a wooden chair with cloth on the arms to
make it more comfortable, and left the,:: chairs and a couch to the
adults.

The little door that had been fixed into the stove was this time and a
brown dog with a white spot on its in front of it.  Since there was no
heat, I assumed his there was out of habit.  The dog saw us, got up,
and over to me with its head down.  When it walked it noticed that part
of its right front foot had been some kind of accident.  I patted it
and it lay its head lap for more attention.  I stroked its nose.

Grandma gave a little background on Daddy to Doc listened intently,
nodding his head now and then.  I found barrassing, and wouldn't have
told about how lost Daddy these days, but no one asked me.  Grandma had
her own

When she was finished, Doc Tinn shook his head.  "That's shame.  I like
Jacob.  I really do."

"That's one reason we've come to you.  We're trying to get on who done
these murders."

"Ma'am, I knew, I'd have told somebody."

"We know that," Grandma said.  "What we want to know if you know what
kind of person done these murders."

"I heard you talkin' to Daddy," I said.  "I was on the roof the
icehouse.  Things you told him, seems to me you know lot about this
kind of thing."

"I knew you was up there.  So did your Daddy.  Not right

But we come to know it."

"You should have called those boys down," Mrs.  Tinn said. "They done
seen what they seen," Doc Tinn said.  "Wasn't undoing that.  As for
these murders, nobody knows a lot this kind of thing.  You mind hearin'
all this, dear?" "My heart and stomach is a little too delicate for it,
but curiosity is strong as steel.  I'll stay."

"Well now," Doc Tinn continued, "I don't know anything all  Not
really.  But I do some reading, and I've given it thought.  This kind
of killer, he don't kill 'cause he don't

Want to pay his john bill, you know what I mean?" Grandma nodded.

I thought on it.  John Bill?  I had no idea what he was talk hag
about.

"He enjoys hurting people.  Like that de Sade.  The idea of sufferin'
makes him happy."

"That's hard to imagine," Grandma said.  "Surely he can't to do this
kind of thing.  He's got be driven to do it."

"Ma'am, you asked me my opinion.  That's all I "I'm sorry, Doctor. 
Please continue."

"I have a book in my house called Psychopathia by a fella named Richard
Krafft-Ebing.  It's a ity, I suppose, but it interests me.  It tells a
lot ab who enjoy being hurt--"

"They want pain?"  Grandma asked.

"Yes.  De Sade discussed it in his books."

"I haven't read them," Grandma said.  "I don't

I would want to."

"You're probably right, ma'am.  And there are enjoy giving pain.  It
gives them control over people not normally have control over.  Or,
maybe they just idea of power."

"These women," Grandma asked.  "They're

"Seems that way."

"Isn't that control enough?"

"That's control by permission.  He wants complete It's also possible he
experienced something bad in his something affected him.  Got him so he
feels he's this.  Someone else might not be affected by this pened to
him, but for some reason, his basic nature, tensity of the event, he
has been changed.  And, in the our man, not for the better.  There's
another thing in the book.  Fetishism."

"What?"  Grandma asked.

"Obsession with certain things."

"I'm obsessed with peppermints, but I don't kill Dr.  Tinn smiled. 
"Fetishes like, say.."  an c shoes.  He might only pick victims that
wear a certain shoe.  Or they're of a certain type.  Or maybe he likes
with a woman while she wears a certain kind of

"Like prostitutes?"  Grandma asked.

Doc Tinn nodded.  "That could be it.  Could be he likes to a little
something' that means something' to him.  Say when was young, he got all
confused on sex and hurtin'.  It hap Could be he keeps some of their
clothes or shoes after does his murders.  Could be because they're
colored.  Pros may just make them available and it hadn't got a thing
do with their color or their way of makin' money."

"But one of the victims was white," I said.

"That's the one got Mose hung," Doc Tinn said.  "I knew

He didn't have anything to do with any of this busi Lot of things make
him look good for it.  Mose was on river.  Had a boat.  Went up and
down the river all the time.

was found on his table.  Also the fact his wife and son around no more
and no one knows where they are.  And hasn't been another murder.  But
Mose was too old and strong enough.

"Whoever this is, they might be doin' this 'cause they don't the way
some women carry themselves.  Maybe thinks any he can have, or has had,
isn't worthy to live.  Wants enjoy the woman's favors, but soon as he
does, she's no on a pedestal.  She isn't the Virgin Mary any longer. 
Or the case of the prostitutes, he already hates them for what are."

"Way he ties them up," Grandma asked.  "Anything in that on that? 
Could it tell us something'?"

"We're back to fetish.  Bondage.  Control.  Humiliation.  He all them
things, I figure.  He could be someone knows and how to tie them.  You
know your Dad brought that white woman over for me to look at?  He
didn't know was white at the time.  You know that?" "Yes sir," I
said.

"Knots tied on her was like loggers use when have chains.  Have to use
ropes.  Small operations. don't tell you much.  Darn near every man in
the bunches outside have worked logs some.  I've seen them same kind of
ties for trussin' up a dead hog ried./nd on a smaller scale I've seen
similar ties ten on hooks to fishin' line.  I've used them be everyone
knew how to tie a good knot."

"If Mose didn't do it, you think since there hasn' murder, fella's
moved on?"  Grandma asked.

"Possible.  But I doubt he's quit murderin'.  He'll do wherever he
goes, and there's a chance he was doin' where else before he come
here."

"But he could just work it out of his system?"

"Who am I to say.  I doubt it.  Unless they get they're in jail or a
nut house or something'."

"Any guess about the color of this man?"

"Any guess about anything?"

"Outside of what I told you, I can't say.  Maybe someone will make a
science of this.  I've tried to

I can out of curiosity, but what I know ain't much."

"There was a warning about Mose being Grandma said, and she gave Doc
Tinn some of the "Figure whoever's been doin' this didn't want an to
die for what he done.  His conscience got the best of!

"You're a credit to Christian thinking," Doc Tinn

I think he didn't want someone else to take credit for done.  He's
right proud.  Kind of signs all his work, so to Same kind of ties and
cuts.  Does it all along the river, ori them to the river.  He feels
comfortable there."

I thought: Like the Goat Man.

"I don't think this fella's got a conscience.  Least way we think of
one.  But he ain't no monsterin his life.  He's normal like.  Not
someone you'd expect."

""Unless it's Mr.  Nation," I said.  "Or one of his boys.  They're
lsters."

Doc Tinn rubbed his chin, then nodded.  "I know them.  That one,
Joshua, he likes to set fires.  And Esau, the older he's hired couple
of colored boys to take him out boat and they say he's took the fish
he's caught and thrown out on the bank and just stomped them.  Had a
real delight it.  So, you could be right.  It could be any one of them
Naand I wouldn't be surprised.  People got that much hatred meanness in
'em, it's got to come out somehow."

It had begun to rain.  We could hear it pattering on the tin i "And
there's another thing I been thinkin'," I said.  "Red I "You're
thinkin' on some harsh things for a boy," Doc Tinn

"Yes sir," I said.  "Me and Tom found the first body, and

'we been in touch with everything since.  I feel I'm part of it."
"Red's the law," Grandma said, "so he's got access to in and people. 
He could get a woman off by herself Say to her it's law business. 
Coloreds, they've got no say the law.  And Red's known as someone that
isn't too of women.  And he hates colored." Doc Tinn studied the air
for a moment, as if trying to deif certain information should be
revealed. "Listen here," he said.  "I'm gonna tell you something' I
shouldn't.  And I got it on rumor, but it's worthwhile knowin',
eonsiderin' we're all meddlin' here.  And this ain't even well known in
the colored community, but once when Miss Maggie took ill she come to
me, and she had to spend three days at our she come down with such a
case of the pneumonia.  She to talkin', and she told me something' I
maybe shouldn't tell but considering what happened to Mose, and what's
goin' it might be best you know.  I got to have your word, though,

Joe g. I.ansdale that you ain't goin' to spread it around.  I don't
tat ion as a gossip."

Grandma and I agreed.

"Red, he ain't white.  Least not totally."

"What?"  Grandma was leaning forward in her if being closer to Doc Tinn
might make

"Red's Daddy thought he put three children in gie's belly," Doc Tinn
said.  "Two girls and a boy.

them children turned out white-lookin'.  Red's two raised in the black
community until they was four

Maggie seen they could pass for white, and she

, help them girls.  They went up North somewhere.

it might not be true, is them girls was adopted by wantin' babies, and
they don't even know them

, ored.

,.

"Red, being' a boy, well, old man Woodrow first.  He was raised as his
son, and his wife had to gave birth to him.  They kept it hid
somehow."

"Red know he's got colored in him?"  Grandma

"No.  And I don't know it for sure.  I'm tellin'

heard.  But I believe 'em.  Red, he loves Miss Maggie dam near raised
him.  He just come up thinkin' he and she was his nanny and wet
nurse."

i..

"Wait a minute," Grandma said.  "You said Mr.

thought he put three children in Miss Maggie's belly.

"You're a good listener and a smart lady," Doc

"The third child, the youngest, that was Red.  But in it wasn't old man
Woodrow who put him there.  It

At that moment, it was as if the roof had fallen in

"Mose was part white," Grandma said.

"Yes," Doc Tinn said.

:.

"And Red was a kickback to that part of Mose."

Doc Tinn nodded.

"You look real close, 'cept for the size, Red and Mosel spittin' image
of each other.  Red hair, freckles, and them eyes.  And there's another
thing she told me.  Mose,

Daddy was the old man Woodrow's Daddy."

"Any way Red could have known?"  Grandma asked.

"Not unless Miss Maggie told him.  I don't think she'd have me had she
not been half delirious.  She's proud of him. made something' of
himself.  Then again, he don't know he's don't know Miss Maggie's his
mother.  She ain't totally about all that." "Why doesn't she tell him?"
 I asked.

"She thinks way things are is best, I figure.  He gets treated lot
better as a white man than a black."

I knew then why Miss Maggie had not wanted to talk about the other day.
 Why she had become so upset.

"Once again, I mention this only because Red Woodrow is the pressure on
folks here in the community to keep what know in the community.  He
don't want colored business into white business.  But it ain't all
hatred on his part. may not know he's colored, but in spite of what he
says,

got a good streak.  He's thinkin' it gets out more, whites gonna get
upset more, and it's the coloreds gonna suffer.

ain't always how they look."

"And the killer?"

Doc Tinn shrugged.  I don't know any more than I told you.

if it's like some other murders, like the Jack the Ripper murders in
England, he's gonna grow bolder, and more violent. Right now he's
takin' women he don't think matter.  But he may not stay doin' that. 
He might decide any woman is fair game.

like that, he's playin' games with the law and everyone else.  He don't
think he can be caught.  He don't think he's doin'

wrong."

Jeo II, I.ansdale

I By the time Grandma said her goodbyes and her and

" poked and laughed at each other a bit, the rain was down hard,
slamming on the tin roof like someone ing it with a chain.  The air was
heavy but cool with

Outside the store's open door you could see it mud street, running ruts
across the road.  It was by the moment.

"Y'all ought to wait it quits rainin'," Camilla said.

"I don't want my daughter to worry about us,"

said.""-'et sacs,"" we'll take it easy."

We rushed out to the car, and by the time we we were soaking wet, and
chilly.  Grandma started

"Did we learn anything, Grandma?"

"I don't know, Harry.  In the detective books they asking' questions of
people, and finally someone tells something' that matters.  We did hear
some interestin'

I don't know it helps any.  Time will tell."

"

Just outside of town, something stumbled through

' out into the road and stopped.

It was a naked black man.  He was holding his ing them at the car, as
if it were something he

: flail the hood.  He had his mouth open and seemed to ing some kind of
sound, but over the motor and the rain impossible to hear him.

Although I had never seen him before, I knew i: who it was by
reputation.

"Root," I said.

"What?"  Grandma said.

"That's his name.  He's harmless."

"You mean Camilla's boy William?"

::

"They call him Root now," I said.  "He ain't right

Root stumbled out of the road, releasing himself,

hands to sky, talking to the heavens.  He wandered into the with his
hands up and disappeared.

"Well, my goodness," Grandma said.  "He's certainly... n the dark
rolling wetness of the rain, Grandma |

the road and we found ourselves driving toward the

Trees seemed to leap at us.

By the time Grandma realized her mistake, we were" on grass and mud. 
The car turned sideways, slid in tion, as if on greased glass, and came
to a stop with end gently bumping against a sycamore tree. "Goddamnit!"
 Grandma said.

She tried to drive the car out, but the more she more the tires churned
the grass into mud, and the buried.

"We're stuck, Harry.  We got to walk."

"I can walk, Grandma.  I'll get Daddy to come back

US."

"I got us into this, I can walk out and get wet with "You don't have
to."

"I know, but it's what I want.  The idea of sittin' and don't appeal to
me.  Look under that seat there."

I reached under me.  There was a pretty good-sized wooden with a
latch.

"Open it up," Grandma said.  "Let's see what all I still got it."

There was a flashlight, small pistol, some first-aid stuff,

a box of .32 shells, and a road flare.

"You tote that for me," Grandma said.

I locked the box, we got out and started walking.  The rain very hard,
and soon it turned to ice.  Hail in the middle of summer, and it was
pounding us so violently, we took a trail the road and wandered into
the woods, hoping the trees give us some respite against it.

It was dark and the air was blurred by rain and hail, but it take long
before I realized the trail we were on led to Swinging Bridge.

I told Grandma as much.

"That means we aren't far from Mose's shack," Grandma

"We can hole up there."

I thought about that.  I remembered the shack being sur by town folks 
Not far from the shack, Mose had been up.  I didn't want to go down
that trail to the shack, but hail didn't leave us much choice.

As we broke out of the trees into the clearing that led down the river
and to Mose's shack, the hail hammered us as if to drive us into the
ground.  It was knocking knots on my and the rain was chilling me to
the bone.  It was dark as aight now, and Grandma took the flashlight
out of the box and used that as we hurried down the hill that led to
the shack. We burst in through the half-open door.  A raccoon, startled
at presence, jumped back and hissed at us.

Grandma pushed me along the wall and left the door open, startled coon
didn't want to leave.  Grandma took a chair poked it and it ran out the
open door, disappeared into the and hail.  I almost felt sorry for
it.

After Grandma closed and bolted the door with bar, she poked the
flashlight around.  The place had inside out.  Mose's few clothes were
strewn about.

flour dumped and a few tins and broken jars of food the floor.  I
didn't know if the mob or animals had after Mose's death.

Lying on the floor, next to a broken jar of food gone rotten, was a
photo of a colored woman in a was also a loose picture of what I
figured was Mose's one that had gone out and never come back.  It was
frame with the picture of the woman, just pushed into of it.  The
picture had faded considerable.  The boy be about eleven.  I looked at
the picture real close,

was a white boy's picture cut from a Sears and logue, the features
colored dark with pencil.  I wasn't!

sure what that was about.  Not then.  Not now.  The very dark and her
features were not particularly

I set the frame on thetable.

,

In the corner of the room was a simple wood mattress on it and some
covers strewn across it.

"Kind of smells in here," Grandma said.

;':

"Well, it ain't Mose's fault.  It didn't stink when here."

Grandma put her arm around my shoulders.  "I know,

The storm grew more violent, dark and thundery of lightning slashing
through Mose's two windows.

"I'm exhausted and cold, Harry," Grandma said.  "It's: be a little
wait.  I'm gonna to lay down.  There's room

Grandma sat on the edge of the bed, gave me the

She suddenly looked her age.

"You all right, Grandma?"

:!..

"Of course.  I'm just old.  And my heart gets kind of now and then. 
Beats funny.  I rest a bit, I'll be all ri

Without another word, she lay on the bed and pulled her.  I took the
spare one and put it over my shoulders and in a chair at the little
table.  After a while I got up and picked tdthe canned goods and put
them in the shelf.  I put the photo the Sears and Roebuck cutout in the
center of thetable.  I in the chair again with the blanket around me,
turned out flashlight, and closed my eyes.

I hadn't been sleepy, it being midday and all, but there was hypnotic
about the pounding rain and hail, the darkI could hear water leaking
through the roof as well, dripin a far corner of the shack.

I focused on that sound and fell asleep to it.

I was dreaming of Mose.  Of how they must have beat on door until he
opened it, and then they pulled him out.  Then showed up and he thought
he was going to be all right, he wasn't.  The fear he must have felt,
the pain of st ran feeling his life flying away from him, and for no
reason all, other than the color of his skin.

I jumped awake to a knocking sound.

I jerked my head around, looked at the rain-streaked win and yelled,
"Grandma!"

Grandma came awake.  "Harry?  Harry?"

"The window."

She looked.  There was a dark face in the window, horns on its head. 
It was looking in the glass at us, tapping with its knuckles. Rivers of
rain fled down the glass, blurring the face. The Goat Man.

Grandma sprang awake, tried to get hold of the box she had placed by
the bed.  She managed to kick it and slide it under table.

The face went away.  The door shook.  The wooden bar held.

came a noise from outside like someone trying to talk

Joe g. Lansdale with a mouthful of mush.  The door was tugged harder,

a moment I thought it might break free.

I crawled under thetable, got the box, opened it,

[i,

Grandma.  She pulled out the .38.  "Go away,

away or I'll start shootin' through the door."

This didn't discourage the Goat Man.  He shook some more, and Grandma,
in spite of her threat, did blasting through the door.

Finally the door ceased to shake.  I got a glimpse he passed the
window.  A heartbeat later I turned to a hind me.  The second window
was without a glass.

only a yellow oilcloth pulled over it.  A dark hand broken nails worked
its way through, past the oilcloth,"

' about as if trying to get a hold by which to pull him se

Grandma stepped forward and whacked the hand with barrel.

There was a howl.  The hand leaped away and

We listened for a while.  Nothing.  Grandma eased

' window, pulled back the oilcloth.  Wet wind whipped chilled the room.
Grandma cautiously leaned against and looked out the window.  She went
to the other side oilcloth, lifted it again, looked out that way, and
with a scream.

"Damn!"

She had hold of her chest as she backed toward the

"He Was out there.  Soon as I looked he ran away."

"The Goat Man," I said.

"I almost believe it," Grandma said.

"He had horns, didn't he?"

"He had... He had something'."

Grandma pulled up a chair and we both sat at the little revolver lying
in the center next to the frame with pictures in it.

I suppose it was an hour later when the hailstorm stopped, a little
later after that when the rain slowed and the sky

"It could have been Root," Grandma said.

"With horns on his head?"

Grandma didn't respond to that.  We waited a while longer,

carefully, Grandma had me lift the bolt on the front door open it.  She
stood with the pistol ready.

The Goat Man didn't jump in on us.  We both breathed a of relief. 
Grandma got her box, and we went out of there,

into the rain.  The rain was softer now and the sky was lighter.  The
air smelled fresh, like a baby's first breath.

bottoms themselves were beautiful.  The trees lush, the leaves with
rain, the blackberry vines twisting and tangling, shelrabbits and
snakes.  Even the poison ivy winding around oak trees seemed beautiful
and green and almost something wanted to touch.

But like the poison ivy, looks could be deceptive.  Under all beauty,
the bottoms held dark things, and I tell you true, I greatly relieved
when we reached the Preacher's Road. We stopped at the car, tried it
another time, but no deal.  It stuck and proud of it.

There was nothing to do but walk home.  The rain quit and sunlight
turned hot.  It was very muddy.  My shoes and pants were caked with it.
So were Grandma's shoes and the of her dress. "Next time I'm wearin'
pants," she said.

And she meant it.  It was just the sort of thing she'd do and Would
start a scandal.  Back then, the idea of a female, un they were a kid
like Tom or some movie actress, wearing wasn't even considered.

Joe g. Lansdale

When we finally walked onto the porch the sun ing to slip on the other
side of high center.  Mama o door.  She was beside herself.

"Are you okay?"  she said.  "Where you been?" "We run off the road,"
Grandma said.

"You shouldn't have walked all that far, Mama. heart?"

"Fine.  I ain't an invalid, you know."

Both us changed clothes while Mama fixed us eat, a couple of rewarmed
biscuits and some salt pork. even told Mama part of the truth.  She
said we had ride and ended up sliding off the road and staying old
shack.  She didn't mention we had gone to Pearl we had seen Root, and
his root.  She didn't mention Man.

It was my idea to hook Sally Redback up with a and some chains, go back
and pull the car out, but that idea, saying Sally was too old for that
sort of the strain might kill her.

It was decided, instead, I would ride Sally into get Daddy, who had as
of late gone back to the hit a lick at working.  He'd come in as if he
had never perhaps as if he had never come home.  He'd go into room, or
outside, and sit in the chair beneath the great whittle a large stick
to splinters.

Since I was going into town I decided, while I was would return a book
to Mrs.  Canerton, maybe

I put a bridle, reins, and saddlebag with the book Sally, and Tom, who
was disappointed she had missed our adventure, insisted on riding with
me.  I let her hang back, and Sally bounced us into town.

At the barbershop I noticed Daddy's car wasn't Cecil's truck was and
the shop was open.  We went inside.  Cecil was sitting in the main
barber chair magazine.  I hadn't seen him in a while.  He looked
tired,

happY to see us.  He got out of the chair, came over to greet s, picked
Tom up and sat back down in the chair and held her his lap.

"My goodness, you've grown," he said.

"I'm two inches taller than last year," she said.

"And heavier," Cecil said.  "You'll be a woman soon."

I came over and stood beside them, not wanting Tom to get the
attention.  I noticed up close that Cecil had a thin line of on the
back of his neck, just above his collar.

I wanted to interject myself somehow.  "You still seem' Mrs.

"From time to time," Cecil said, pushing Tom's hair out of eyes.  "But
she hasn't been as friendly lately."

"I'm going to see her today," I said.  "Return a book she me."

"Tell her I said hello," he said.

I had almost forgotten my mission.  "Where's Daddy?" "Well, he's not
around just now." "Where is he?"

"Actually, he's at my place." "Why?"  Tom asked. "He wanted to
relax."

I could tell something wasn't right.  I said, I'll go over to place and
check on him."

"Tom can stay here," Cecil said.

"Naw," Tom said.  "I'm goin' too."

"He really wanted to be alone," Cecil said.

"This here is an emergency," I said.

"It might be best you went and got him," Cecil said.  "Tom help me
clean up here, make a nickel."

"A nickel," Tom said.  "You got a whole nickel?"

"You'd have to earn it," Cecil said.  "There's work needs to be done. 
Sweepin' and such.  Cleanin' that mirror,

hair oil bottles down."

I'll go on then," I said.

Cecil nodded.  I slipped out the front door and from the tree by the
barbershop, started on over to Cecil' By the time I got over there the
sun was creeping horizon like a smear of sweet potato sliding off a
plate.

I had only been to Cecil's house once, when wanted him to come into
work early.  He had given me diretions and sent me over there, but I
remembered the

Cecil's house was just on the edge of town, back some trees, and it
wasn't much to look at.  A shack with a rusty tin roof and a bunch of
sweet around it; a limb from one of them had grown in such it lifted a
corner of the tin roof as if its intent was to .: off and peek inside. 
The porch was rotted in spots were gaps in the wood where the ground
showed.  The 1 around the house was littered with sweet gum balls.

Daddy's car was parked out to the back of the far from the outhouse. 
The driver's side door was Leaningagainst a tree out back were the
wooden Cecil sometimes used for his truck, and his fishin' boat on
bricks to keep from rotting.

I tied Sally to a tree, closed the car door, went on and called out for
Daddy.  He didn't answer.  I pushed at and it came open.  There was a
faint stink inside.  I walked looked around.  A wood stove, chintz
curtains over a table, couple of chairs.  No Daddy.

The second room had a curtain over the door.  I back, and that's where
the stink was coming from, and was Daddy.

He was lying on the bed asleep, blowing out his such a way his lips
trembled.  The room was full of the his breath, and the stench on his
breath was alcohol.  There a tall bottle lying by the bed.  It had
turned over and whiskey poured out of it.

I stood there looking at him, not knowing what to think.  I never seen
my Daddy drunk.  I knew he liked a drink now then, but just a drink. 
Yet, here he was, knocked out on the with an empty whiskey bottle lying
in the dust.

then why I had seen him around less, and why he got away from us when
he could.  He had been drink regularly  Where before I had been
sympathetic, I was now

I began to understand what Mama was going through, and marveled at how
well she had held up and kept it from us. probably knew as well. 
Suddenly, I saw those women, who I had always loved, in an even
brighter light.

I stood over Daddy, almost wanting to hit him.  I decided not to try
and wake him.  He wouldn't be any good if I did get him up, and I
didn't want to see him awake the way he was.  I didn't want him to see
the disappointment in my face, and I didn't want to see it on his.

I went out of the room quietly, closed the front door, and rode Sally
back to the barbershop.

When I got back, Tom had done most of the cleaning Cecil had wanted,
and he had sent her over to the general store to bring us back Dr. 
Peppers and peanut patties, his treat.

When she was gone, he said, "I didn't want you to know." "He's been
slippin' into town to drink a lot, hasn't he?" Cecil nodded.  "He goes
over to my place now and then.  I thought it best he was gonna drink,
he didn't do it anywhere here he could be seen.  He sobers up before
this usually.  I

really know what to say to him.  He hasn't had it easy."

"It's not easy on anyone," I said.

"Don't be too harsh on him, Harry.  He's a just down.  It's no trouble
to kick someone when

"I'm not kickin' him," I said.  "I come into town to help to pull
Grandma's car out of a ditch."

"It's not like the business is pourin' in today,"

"I'll help you, you want.  We can use your Daddy's

Me and him had put a small plan together.  I was

Mrs.  Canerton's with Tom, to keep her away from he was going to walk
over and get Daddy's car,

as he went.  He said there was some good grass out house, and he'd put
her on a long rope where she it till we come to get her.  He would then
meet us out

Mrs.  Canerton's in Daddy's car.  I figured he was would see her.

Me and Tom knocked on Mrs.  Canerton's door,

wasn't home.  I put the book on the porch swing,

get a new one from her.

Me and Tom sat on her front porch and waited drinking our Dr.  Peppers,
eating our peanut patties.  It long before Cecil showed.  He didn't get
out of the car.  and got in.

"Ain't Daddy around?"  Tom said.

"He's about business," Cecil said.  "We'll see him We drove off toward
Preacher's Road.

It was dark by the time Grandma's car was pulled the mud.  There was
nothing but for me to drive it lowing Cecil in Daddy's car.

Tom rode with Cecil.  He let her sit in his lap and steer but that
didn't last long.  She soon moved to her side. friendly, but he wasn't
stupid enough to let her wreck.

I followed, steer inga little too hard, causing the car to go too far
to one side, then the other, but we made it home me running off in
another ditch or meetinga tree headI even managed to pass a car
without scaring the other driver much.

By the time we stopped off at the house and I rode back Cecil in
Daddy's car to get Sally, it got dark and the moon like a mashed potato
in the sky, rain clouds running over like burned gravy.

We got to Cecil's, Daddy was gone.  I don't know where, he didn't have
a car, but he had slipped off.  The whiskey wasn't by the bed anymore. 
If nothing else, he was a neat

"Your Grandma can bring your Daddy into town tomorrow get the car,"
Cecil said.  "I'll have it over to the barbershop and early.  I think
it's better you just take the mule on not try and drive at night.  You
ain't got the experience,

"Thanks."

"It's okay."

We walked out on the front porch.  I felt awkward and didn't what to do
with my hands.  Finally I offered one to Cecil.

I-Ie took it and we shook.  I got Sally Redback and started for home.

It was dead dark, and as fate would have it, the wind had picked up.  I
went by Mrs.  Canerton's to see if I could give back the book, but the
lights were out and the book was still on the swing.  I was nervous
about leaving it there, lest the rain Should start up again and blow
water on it.  I got the book, put in Sally's saddlebag, mounted up.

I rarely ever was out this late by myself, so I decided to advantage of
it.  I rode Sally over to Miss Maggie's.  Un like "Mrs.  Canerton's,
there was a light in the window.  There also a car in the yard.  I
couldn't see it good, as its rear was to me.  I rode Sally into a
clutch of trees and moment, trying to decide if I should bother her or go
come to the conclusion I ought to just go on home, looked up to the
sound of the car door slamming.  The car up.  The taillights showed. 
One of them was broken.  It same car that had sped away that time we
got the mess Mose.

The car looped fast around the house, right through Maggie's yard, came
around the side, between some tried to get a look, saw a man in a hat,
and that was it." hit the dirt road, flashed its broken taillight at
me,

I started to chase aft erit but that idea went

Sally couldn't keep up with that car, not even a little fall over dead
if I pushed her to even try.

I got off Sally, tied her to a tree, walked toward gie's.  I felt
something in the air I can't explain. just the car that had set me on
edge, but it was as if were filled with needles and the cool points of
them ing in my skin.

I walked quietly up on Miss Maggie's porch.  I look toward the mule
pen.  The mule was there.  The in his pen, lying down in a mud pit it
had made in one

The screen was closed, but the door was slightly could see the kerosene
lamp sitting on top of the

I had never known her to keep it there.

I called her name.

No answer.  I knocked.

Still no answer.

I called some more.  And when she didn't answer this I opened the door
and eased inside.

"Miss Maggie," I tried some more.

I went over to the little curtain, still calling her it back.  The
light from the lamp spilled inside, giving a orange glow to the bed.

Miss Maggie, wearing one of her potato sack gowns, was on the bed, her
hands extended above her in praise Jesus her wrists were bent against
the wall, causing her thin hands to fold downward as if she were
dumping some from them.  Her eyes were open. I felt a tightening in my
stomach, then a sourness.  I called name.  I went over and touched her
gently on the shoulder.

could feel that she was warm, but she didn't respond. "Miss Maggie," I
said, and began to cry.

I stepped out of there and pulled the curtain back.  I went to the lamp
and blew it out.

I went out on the porch and stood there for a long moment,

the night.  The night had nothing to say.  I walked to Sally as if in a
dream.  I untied her and mounted.  I

riding toward home.

I didn't push Sally too hard, but I rode at as good a gait as could
carry me without wearing herself down.  In the mean I was mentally
trying to put something together; I was to figure on the broken
taillight.

A man jumped out of the dark and grabbed Sally's bridle.

"Harry," Daddy said.  "I'm sorry, boy.  I didn't mean to scare

I think someone stole the car.  I was walkin' home, 'side road.  Saw
you comin' 'round the curve.  I was afraid you'd away from me." "You're
drunk," I said.

"I was," he said, and let go of Sally's bridle.  "I ain't now.

walked it off."

"I thought you slept it off."

For a moment, from the cock of his head, I knew he I had said too much.
 But he eased his posture, let it

"Car ain't stolen," I said.  "It's back at Cecil's had to use it to
pull Grandma's car out of a ditch.  I

there to get you, but you was sleepin' it off."

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Miss Maggie," I said.  "She's dead."

"What?"

"She's dead.  I was goin' home, to find you.  I thou you might have got
back.  I was hopin' you wouldn't drunk to do something' about it.  Not
that anything's Miss Maggie any good."

"She was old, Harry," Daddy said, practically le Sally.

I told him about the car, about the taillight. "All right," he said. 
"I'm climbin' up there." He pulled himself up on Sally with some rode
back to her place.

Inside, Daddy lit the lamp, pulled back the the edge of the bed and
took a look.  First thing he his hand to close her eyes.  He touched
her skin.

"She feels a little warm."

"She was real warm when I found her," I said. He held the lamp close to
her face.  "Someone's hands around her throat.  And that there pillow
on the figure that ended up over her face.  She was murdered,

He turned to look at me when he said that, and his the light of the
lantern looked as if it were made of

I guess something in my face showed him didn't want to see.

"I don't know much of anything anymore son," "but I do know that."

Part Five

only our memories allow that some people ever existed.  That they
mattered, or mattered too much.  No one speaks of Old anymore.  I can't
say I know anyone who remembers but me.  Remembers her cooking, which
if I think about enough, I can taste; remembers her stories, strange
and and told without doubt.

Then perhaps that is conceit.  She has family somewhere.

might be alive.  Old as, or older than me.

They could remember.

But they can't remember my memories. Maggie. Gone now. Murdered.

And the seasons change as if nothing ever happened.

Joe g. tans dale

We went back and got the car at Cecil's, him and not saying much, then
with Daddy driving slow and Sally, we went home.

All the way home I thought about poor Miss M that the last time I had
seen her she had been upset.  I my crying out on that ride to the house
so I wouldn'ting in front of the family when I got home.

At the house Daddy sat at thetable drinking coffee, sitting beside
him, and he tried to figure on Miss Ma der.

I told him about the car I had seen with the broken the same that had
sent us the message about Mose.  I him how when Grandma and I had last
seen Miss had mentioned Red Woodrow and she had gotten upset. told him
we had heard rumors Red was really Miss son.

Daddy seemed amazed at this.

"Me and him was once like brothers," Daddy said. I'd have known such a
thing."

"Well," Mama said.  "It was that old woman who so it's possible."

Daddy nodded.  "But, since she did, why would he I'll tell you why,"
Grandma said.  "Accordin' here told me, he didn't care for-coloreds. 
He seen white, and he seen himself as superior, then one Miss Maggie
told him.  For whatever reason, she just He couldn't stand the idea,
and he killed her."

"If she told him," Daddy said, "and say he realized was his Daddy, and
he had Klan connections, and it tried to warn us about Mose, then why
would he turn and kill Miss Maggie?"

"I got that one too," Grandma said.

"I figured you had an opinion on it," Daddy said. "Say he did find out,
and from his Klan that someone had told Mose was being' held as a
suspect, say he then knew what they were gonna do to the old man.

l just the day before he was all for it, then he found out the man was
his Daddy.  He sent you the note, tryin' to stop it. he didn't, and say
Miss Maggie then said something' to him that, about how he let his Daddy
die by not steppin' in just stoppin' it on his own, or helpin' you. 
So, in a rage, killed her too."

"That sounds possible," Daddy said.

"Thing to do, hon," Mama said, "is go see Red.  See if he's that busted
taillight."

Daddy nodded.  Tom crawled up in his lap and put her arms his neck.  He
patted her softly on the back.

Next day Daddy went looking for Red, but it turned out he nowhere to be
found.  He hadn't been doing his job, and one had seen him in a week. 
His car was missing.

Couple days later a fella hunting' over in the next county it parked
down in the woods on a little trail.  It wasn't a trail big enough for
the car, but it looked to have been down it fast and wild.  It was
scratched on all sides from and limbs.  It had a missing taillight.

It wasn't concrete, but it seemed Red had murdered Miss klaggie, and he
had been the one to warn us about Mose.

Grandma's theory seemed to make sense.

There was still another mystery.

Miss Maggie was buried at the back of her property in a chest that was
donated by Mr.  Groon.  It was simple but of folks showed up, both
black and white.  Miss Maggie Was well liked.

A paper was found in her house that had been written out her and her
name was signed on it, scrawled out in poor

Joe g. Lansdale letters.  She wanted her mule and hogs to be given to
use them, and she wanted friends to come and pick clean.  That was done
right away, even before an mule and hogs could be found.  Also in this
will of the plan to sell her property and give the money to Red

The property was sold all right, but Red Woodrow come and collect it.

Mystery was, day after Miss Maggie was buried, was dug up.  Wasn't
nothing but a hole left in her the best of my knowledge, to this day no
one knows came of it or why it was taken.

After the business with Miss Maggie, it got that maybe Mose hadn't been
the killer of all them it had been Red, and in a final rage he had
killed gie.

"Course, ones sayin' this didn't know she was his that Mose was his
father, or that it looked as if he Daddy a warning note about the
lynching.  All this DI to himself.

What Daddy let be known was I had seen the car, Maggie's, and thinking
something suspicious I had got him and he had investigated.  Where he
fudged a bit didn't let on I had discovered the body.  He was afraid
point to me somehow.

The supposed reasons Red killed Maggie were as the ants on the ground. 
A popular one was that Red, some reputation as be inga bit crooked, had
stolen she had buried at her house.

This led to speculation as to why money from her had been left to him
in her will.  Some said he made it that way, but that didn't explain
the mule, the hogs, household items.

Years later, when the story got around that Red Maggie's son, the
particulars changed some.  It was said

come back and got the body and buried it private like.

were other rumors that a colored voodoo man came and it up to use the
body parts, and it was even said by some Miss Maggie's wilted, dried
hand had been turned into a of glory.  There were those over the years
claimed to see like they'd know one dried black hand from another.

At the barbershop one day, while me and Tom was there Cecil, I remember
Mr.  Evans speculating as Cecil clipped the hair above his ears.  Mr. 
Evans was one for speculating. Grandma, he read murder mysteries and
saw himself as a detective, though the only detecting he'd ever done
was to puzzle out a story in one of the magazines at the bar).

He was a short, fat, bald man with a habit of pursing his when he was
making a point, or setting up a mystery. "Say Miss Maggie had her money
buried, or hid out, and found out about it."

"How?"  Cecil asked.

"Some nigger knew something' and told him.  You know,

about Miss Maggie, and he got it figured, and maybe picked him up for
something'.  You know, a crime of some

"Picked who up?"

"Some nigger.  Ain't you listenin'.  No nigger in particular. a
hypothetical nigger.  And this here nigger, to lighten his with the
law--" "What'd he do?"  Cecil asked.

"He didn't do nothin'.  He's hypothetical.  Anyway, this fella, knew
about the money and told Red where it was supposed be, and Red went to
get it, and it wasn't there.  So he tried naake Miss Maggie tell him,
and he accidentally killed her."

"If'n I was him," said Mr.  Calhoun, a normally quiet man OVeralls,
"it'd be that hypothetical nigger lied to me got a

Not some poor ole nigger woman."

Jee g. Lansdale

"You people are impossible," Mr.  Evans the Great tive said.

"Did Red get the money?"  Cecil asked.

"I don't know," Mr.  Evans said, "but I'd wager he maybe had someone
else help him.  A woman.  And he his car and they went off in hers."

"Why would he dump his car?"  Cecil asked.

"Harry here had seen it and thought it would be reco said Mr.  Evans.

"How did Red know he'd seen it?"

"He must have seen Harry," Mr.  Evans said.

got that part figured out yet.  But give me a day or

Besides this version of events, there were others. Red not only killed
Miss Maggie, but was the as the murderer had come to be known.

But this wasn't a popular theory.  It had too against it.  Miss Maggie
wasn't mutilated or tied, for and, there were those that figured white
men didn't that kind of horrible killing.  And thirdly, most were real
man responsible had been lynched.  Their why it had to be Mose were
simple.  There hadn't been murder like the ones in the bottoms since.

Many didn't even think Red killed Miss Maggie. "Course, that left a
series of questions.  Why was at Miss Maggie's?  Why had he
disappeared?  Why was' found in the bottoms, run off in the woods like
that?"

There were answers given for all of these.  Like the money and run off
somewhere to spend it.  Hadn: heard him say he wanted to go abroad
someday?

Bottom line was, no real conclusions were come t finally it became an
"unknowable nigger murder." one besides Daddy concerned about it.  More
people cerned about Red.

, Had he actually been abducted by the Bottoms Killer?

had found some clues to the killer's identity, and the killer gotten
rid of him.

No matter Red hadn't been concerned about the killer be this became a
popular theory, right up there with him have.  found the hidden money
and gone off to Paris or some such. There was even a rumor that one of
his friends got regular from him under a disguised name and that the
cards from exotic places all over the world.  It was also said of the
cards had lipstick stains on them, kisses he had his girlfriends in all
those countries to stick to the cards their soft red lips. "Course,
since these cards were supposedly coming in over short time from all
over the world, this wasn't an entirely con story

I think the fact that Daddy didn't come up with any answers made things
worse than before.  For a few days there he been his old self, but his
investigation had stalled at Red's being discovered and then nothing
else.

The whole thing settled down on him heavy as a boulder, he fell back to
the dark place where he had been lying for many months, and unlike
before, he didn't even bother to us when he was on a drunk, and pretty
soon the whiskey showed up at the house in plain sight.

Grandma took the hard line with him, calling him this and but it didn't
budge him. Finally, he moved out to the barn with his bottles and it
was if he didn't exist anymore.  Oh, he got some money from the though
now Cecil was getting the bulk of it, and did a little work around the
place, but the plowing was left me and I wasn't real good at it.

We were scratching for a living like never before.

If things weren't difficult enough on the farming scene, it in raining
real hard, beating on the ground worse than day Grandma and I had been
trapped in Mose's shack.

Joe R. iaasdale

With it pouring like that, there wasn't any real to be done.  The rain
went on for days, gushed through washed away our topsoil, carded plants
with it, or down in place.

Grandma said it was the darnedest thing yet. been through everything
drying up and blowing was having to go through everything turning wet
and,; away.

The rain turned to flooding and the Sabine flowed wide and fast,
swirling mad waterin brown foamy river even changed its course by
churning away banks and uprooting and toting off trees, some of enough
to have built the front end of Noah's Ark.

But eventually it passed.  The rain quit, the black open, showed blue
behind it, as well as the sun in golden glory.  In fact, it turned hot
as hell and dry mud heaped up in hard crust, like scabs healing all
earth.

At night the dark sack that held the skies was and the stars fled from
it and glowed like ffi eyes all across the black velvet heavens.

The river ceased to roar, murmured instead, like a ing contentedly, his
belly full of com bread and stopped dropping off the banks, the ground
turned and the river flowed comfortably within its new happy as if the
skies had never mistreated it.

Clem Sumption lived some ten miles from us, on a little road forked off
what served as a main hi You wouldn't think of it as a highway now, but
it was road, and if you turned off of it, trying to cross neck of the
woods on your way to Tyler, you had to house, which was situated
alongside the Sabine

Clern's outhouse was on the bank of the Sabine, and it was up so what
went out of him and his family went into the Lot of folks did that,
though some like my Daddy were at the idea.  It was that place and
time's idea of plumb Daddy thought it was not only nasty, but lazy.  To
have a outhouse you had to have the fortitude to dig a proper A very
deep hole.  When the hole was packed, you dug a hole, moved the
outhouse, filled the old hole, and started packing the other.

The lazy way, you backed an outhouse up to the river's edge your waste
dropped down a slant and onto the bank.  When water rose, the waste was
carried away.  When it didn't, you your best to stay downwind.  Big
blue-green bottle flies col on the dark mess like jewels shining in
rancid chocolate. the dry season if a sudden wind picked up, the stink
could you over.

During the flood, Mr.  Sumption and his boys used pieces of that fit
into grooves on the side of the outhouse so it be lifted and placed in
an area safe from the rising waters. What they did to relieve
themselves during this time I'm but when the flooding passed, they
moved the out to a location near its original spot.

As the river lowered, it was discovered that the mess from outhouse had
not completely washed away, but was now in a big dark hill under the
outdoor convenience's new position.

But before I continue with events, it's necessary to point out Sumption
ran a little roadside stand where he sold vegetanow and then, and on
this hot day I'm talking about he had the urge to take care of a mild
stomach disorder, left his son, Wilson, in Charge of the stand. After
doing his business, Mr.  Sumption said he rolled a cigarette and went
out beside the outhouse to look down on fly-infested pile, maybe hoping
the river had carried some away.  But dry as it was, the pile was
bigger and the water lower, and something unusual lay in it.

Mr.  Sumption, first spying it, thought it was a huge, belly-up
catfish.  One of those enormous bottom-crawler that were reputed by
some to be able to swallow small and babies.

But a catfish doesn't have legs.

Mr.  Sumption said even when he saw the legs it didn't ister with him
that it was a human being.  It looked too too strange to be a person. 
But it was, and it was a Her legs were crossed and tied at the ankles. 
One of her was pulled behind the back, stretched out and tied so ti her
feet it had caused the back to bow slightly.  The other was tied in
such a manner it looked as if she were over the shoulder to scratch the
small of the back, but the from the wrist on, was gone.  The cord was
bound around forearm, and was tied off to the other ann.

Mr.  Sumption eased carefully down the side of the mindful not to step
in what his family had been dropping the bank all summer.  He saw the
woman's bloated body face down in the moist blackness, and the flies
were as lighted with the corpse as they were with the waste.

Mr.  Sumption saddled up a horse and arrived in our short time after
that.  I was out trying to knock some s mud off of some tomato plants
so they might stand up and rot, when he showed up.

Mr.  Sumption rode right up to the edge of the field, off his horse,
and started calling to me.  Toby barked at few times, but it was a
friendly bark.  He knew Mr.

I hurried through the field to where he stood, and he in on how he had
to see Daddy.  Even though Daddy had to drinking, folks thereabouts
didn't know about it, least

25g didn't.  He kept it pretty much at home.  I hated that Mr. 
Sumption might see Daddy that way; we had done a pretty good job of
hiding it.

But there was nothing for it but Daddy had to be told.  I asked Mr. 
Sumption to wait, and I went to the barn to get him. He was lying on a
bed he had made with an old blanket and some hay, and he had his head
propped up with Sally Redback's saddle.  He was awake, and he turned
his head as I came in.  I thought I saw something pass along his face
that might have been shame or embarrassment or both.  Then again, it
could have just been a bellyache.

I suspected he wouldn't even bother, but when I told him Mr.  Sumption
had found a body, and it was tied up, he got up quick, knocking over
his whiskey bottle, not bothering to pick it up.  I didn't bother
either.  Daddy went out ahead of me.  I

watched the whiskey run out of the bottle and into the dirt. To this
day, I've never so much as taken a drink.

Daddy was a little sick-looking, like a man coming off a long bout with
the flu, but he hurried ahead of me, through the field, and met Mr. 
Sumption at the far end.

When he told Daddy what he had found, Mr.  Sumption rode back and Daddy
followed in the car.  I wanted to come, but Daddy insisted that I stay.
There was a part of me that felt I was no longer subject to what Daddy
wanted.  He had given up the respect I had for him long ago, but I
waited.  Maybe I just didn't want to be with him.

Later I learned Daddy and Mr.  Sumption pulled the body out of the pile
us inga hoe and a rake, dipped it in the river for a rinse.  Something
a modern forensic-trained officer of the law Would avoid these days. 
But back then, Daddy had never heard of forensics.  I don't even know
if the word existed.

After fishing the body out, they were shocked to see the face of Louise
Canerton buried in a mass of swollen flesh, one cold dead eye open, the
other half closed, as if she ing.

On closer examination, they discovered the body cut up, and one of the
breasts had been sliced open back together with fishing cord. 
Something was visible the stitches.  Daddy used his knife to cut the
cord free poke out what was inside.  It was a wad of paper. found in
the others.  And like the others, it was too far him to figure what it
was.  He wrapped it in a put it in his pocket.

The body arrived at our house wrapped in a tarp.. and Mr.  Sumption
hauled it out of the car and toted it the barn.  Me and Tom were out
under the big tree, as they walked by carrying their burden, we could
terrible reek of death and defecation through thetarp.

Daddy and Mr.  Sumption were in the barn for a and when they came out,
Daddy had an axe handle in He also had a straighter back and a more
determined eyes, though not clear, looked hard and brittle like darki
of glass.  He walked briskly to the car.  I could hear Mr. tion arguing
at him.  "Don't do it, Jacob.  It ain't worth

We ran over to the car as Mama came out of calling Daddy's name.  But
Daddy wasn't listening. seemed to register.  It was as we always said
about a mule.  He had his nose forward and his ears back.

Daddy calmly laid the axe handle in the front seat, Sumption stood
shaking his head.  Mama climbed into and started on Daddy.  "Jacob.  I
know what you're can't."

Toby had sidled up to Mr.  Sumption, and Mr. knowing he was defeated as
far as influence with bent down to scratch him behind the ears.

He hollered out once more, but like he didn't really it.  "Don't do it,
Jacob."

Daddy started up the car.  Mama called, "Children.  Get in. you're not
stayin' here."

Maybe she thought our presence would slow Daddy down,

I don't know.  But we jumped in just as Grandma came out of the house. 
She took in the situation, immediately pushed her way into the car, and
Daddy, hardly mindful of our presence, roared off, leaving Mr. 
Sumption standing in the yard either bewildered or resigned.

Mama fussed and yelled and pleaded all the way over to Mr.  Nation's
house.  Daddy never said a word.  When he pulled up in Nation's yard,
Mr.  Nation's wife was outside hoeing at a pathetic little garden, most
of which had been washed down hill by the recent rain.

Mr.  Nation and his two boys were sitting in rickety chairs under a
tree, cracking pecans and eating them. Grandma, who had begun to put it
together, said; "Oh hell." Before Daddy could get out of the car, Mama
grabbed the axe handle, but he carefully took it from her hands and got
out of the car with it, started walking toward Mr.  Nation.  Mama was
hanging on his arm, but he pulled free.  He walked right past Mrs. 
Nation, who paused and looked up in surprise.

Mama started after Daddy again, but Grandma grabbed her, said, "Might
as well let things be.  He gets like this, he's like Achilles after
Hector.  You know that."

Mr.  Nation and his boys spotted Daddy coming.  Mr.  Nation slowly rose
from his chair, pecans falling out of his lap.  The expression on his
face was akin to discovering you hadn't but toned your fly and were
standing in a room full of church WOmen.

"What the hell you doin' with that axe handle?"  Nation asked.

The next moment what Daddy was doing with that axe handle became
abundantly clear.  It whistled through the hot morn ingair like a
flaming arrow and caught Mr.  Nation alongside

Jae g. Lansdale the head about where the jaw meets the ear, and the
made was, to put it mildly, akin to a rifle shot.

Mr.  Nation went down like a wind-blown scarecrow. stood over him
swinging the axe handle.  Mr.  Nation inga nd putting up his arms in a
pathetic way.  The came at Daddy.  Daddy turned, swatted the older one
younger one tackled him.

Instinctively, I started kicking at that boy, and he Daddy and climbed
me.  But Daddy was up now.  The die sang.  The boy went out like a
light, and the other was still conscious, started scuttling along the
ground fours like a crippled centipede.  He finally managed right and
ran for the house.

Mr.  Nation tried to get up several times, but every did that axe
handle would cut the air, and down he'd go. whapped on Mr.  Nation's
sides, back, and legs, until worn out and had to back off and lean on
the tered handle.

When Daddy got his wind back, he was at it again. his sense had
returned however, and he began to use the the handle, banging it
against Nation.

Finally Nation rolled on his back, lifted his hands of his face, and
began to cry.  Daddy stopped in mid-s demon had gone out of him.  I
knew now what Grandma when she said Daddy had a temper.

Nation, ribs surely broken, lip busted, spitting teeth, lay there with
his feet and hands up like a dog that on its back to impress its
master.

When Daddy got his wind back, he said, "They found Canerton down by the
river.  Dead.  Cut the same way as them others.  You and your boys and
that lynch mob do nothin' but hang an innocent man."

"You're supposed to be the law?"  Nation said, spitting "You ain't
supposed to do nothin' like this."

"If'n I was any kind of law, I'd have had you arrested for you did to
Mose, but that wouldn't have done no good. one around here would
convict you, Nation.  They're scared f you.  But I ain't.  I ain't. 
And if you ever cross my path again,

iI swear to God, I'll kill you and beat your corpse daily till there
ain't nothin' left of it.  You just be glad this old handle wasn't
sturdy as some I got."

Daddy tossed the shattered axe handle aside, said, "Come

I started back to the car.  Mama, Tom, and Grandma joined

Mama put her arm around Daddy's waist, and he returned the favor.

As we passed Mrs.  Nation, she looked up and leaned on her

She had a black eye, a swollen lip, and some old bruises on her cheek. 
She smiled at us.

Grandma said, "Good day to you."

When the beating was over and we were home, Daddy ex pinned to me whose
body had been found.  I sat on the screenedin porch and looked out at
nothing and thought about Mrs. Canerton.  Tom sat with me, doing the
same.

Mrs.  Canerton wasn't just some poor unfortunate we didn't she was
someone we knew and really liked.  It was hard to believe the woman I
had seen at the Halloween party, all beautiful and pursued by every
eligible man there, was now in our barn wrapped in a tarp, cut up like
those other women. It was a stunning blow.

As we sat there, Daddy came out on the porch.  He pushed his way
between us.  He had a dried sweat coated with whiskey isrnell.  He
said, "Listen, kids.  I know I haven't exactly been right.  But you can
count on one thing.  I'm through with all that.

been an idiot.  I'm on my feet now, and I'rr gonna stay there.  I'll
never touch another drop of whiskey, or drink, long as I live.  Hear
me?"

"Yes sir," we said.

"First thing tomorrow, we're gonna start getting' in shape, and the day
after that I'm gonna start back the barbershop.  I ain't exactly been
settin' a good

I ain't got no excuse for it but my own self-pity.  And what?  I
thought maybe Mose might have done it couldn't figure how logically,
but with the murders crossed my mind."

"Mine too," I said.

"All right then.  Let's get back to being what we're to be.  A
family."

"Daddy?"  Tom said.  "You're gonna go back to ular, ain't you?"

Daddy laughed.  "Yes, honey, I am."

addy was true to his word.  I never seen nor heard of him takin ga
drink again.  He went back to work in the fields back to work at the
barbershop.  And in short time his spirit up the house again.

But on this very day I'm telling you about, he heated up and took a
bath on the back porch in a number ten tub. Rest of us waited in the
kitchen.  You'd have thought we waiting for Lazarus to rise, and I
suppose in one sense we Because when the back door opened and he come
into house, it was as if he was a man reborn.

He stood tall.  His face was shaved close.  His skin looked and pink. 
His hair was slicked back and he had on a fresh of clothes and held his
best tan hat in his hand.

He took Mama in his arms and kissed her, hard, right in of us.  Mama
and Daddy were always affectionate, but you see anything like that
right in front of us, not the way kiss was.

When Daddy and Mama separated, smiling, he put on his looked at me,
said, "Harry, I need you to come with me."

"Me too," Tom said.

"No, baby girl.  Just Harry.  He's near a man, and need him."

I can't tell you what that meant to me.  I

car with him and we drove over to Mrs.  Canerton's.!

The doors to Mrs.  Canerton's house were unl that wasn't so strange
back then.  People didn't doors like now, there wasn't a need.

Daddy looked through the rooms while I stood ini lor looking at the
books in the shelves, thinking enthusiastic Mrs.  Canerton had always
been about saw a number that I had read.  I felt worse by the

When Daddy came back from looking, he shook

"Ain't no sign of a struggle nowhere.  She's just could have been out
and was nabbed by this fella,

she know'd him and went with him without no if that's the case, it
could be a number of folks,

know'd everyone and was kind to everyone."

We went out back where she kept her car.  Iting. ,

"Well now, that's something'," Daddy said.

went off in her car and either picked this fella up, or with her."

"Cecil might know," I said.  "He was seem' her

"I was thinking the same thing."

We went over to the barbershop.  It was empty Cecil.  He was sittin' in
Daddy's barber chair tective magazine.

Cecil seemed surprised to see Daddy all spiffed up and neatly dressed.  "How
about givin' me a haircut, Daddy asked, removing his hat.

Cecil got out of the chair and flipped the magazine on table with the
others.  "Certainly.  You're lookin' good,

Daddy climbed in the chair.  Cecil pulled a sheet over to catch the
hair, and went to work.  "Did you know Louise?"  Daddy asked.

"Well, me and her ain't exactly visitin' these days.  What her?"

"She's dead, Cecil."

The scissors quit snipping.  Cecil came around to the front the chair
and looked at Daddy.  "No?"

Daddy shook his head.  "Afraid so.  I didn't mean to drop on you so
blunt, but there ain't no other way to tell it.

her body in the river.  She was got by that maniac." "It wasn't Mose,"
Cecil said.  "You said it wasn't Mose." Cecil went over and sat in one
of the customer's chairs,

clicked the scissors a few times.

"I thought me and her might be together, you know.  But didn't work. 
She didn't want to get serious.  She quit seem'

I still thought about her.  I think I might have been in with her. 
Good God.  How'n hell could that happen?  She a river whore."

"I thought maybe you might have heard of someone was her might not have
been on the up and up.  Maybe you or suspected something' suspicious
goin' on."

"No.  Jacob, would it be all right I didn't cut your hair?

feel so good."

Daddy nodded.  "That's all right, Cecil.  I got things to do.

thought you might could help us and I could get a hair in the meantime.
I'm cleaning myself up.  I'll be comin' more regular.  I know that
affects your money, but I wanted to know."

"I'm glad for you," Cecil said, snapping the scissors.

Louise."

"You rest a bit," Daddy said, flicking off the rising.  "Not like
there's a rush on customers.  You up to it, go home a while."

"I'm all right.  I'll just sit a moment." Daddy put on his hat, said,
"All right then." Me and Daddy went outside.  When we were car, Daddy
said, "Run back in there and get a bottle coconut hair oil, will you,
son?  I'm gonna clean I might as well smell good all around."

I went back for the hair oil.  Cecil was in the with a magazine.

He lowered the magazine when I came in.  He a hell of a thing, ain't
it?"

"Daddy wants some hair oil," I said.

"Sure.  He uses that coconut kind.  It's on the endi shelf there."

I got it, said goodbye, and went out.

I felt horrible about Mrs.  Canerton, but I felt Daddy was doing so
much better.  I liked the idea smelling good for Mama.

We drove out to Mr.  Sumption's.  When we his yard, he came out of his
house and walked out,: car.  Daddy got out and stood by it.  Mr. 
Sumption didn't kill him?  .... "No," Daddy said.  "But it wasn't from
want of "I can't think of a sorrier sonofabitch than Nation. what he
done to that old colored man, and being' Hard to figure on a man like
that."

"And we won't waste time doin' it.  I want to just leavin' you in the
yard like that."

"It was a short walk, Jacob."

"We want to look around some, Clem.  You don't mind, you?"

"Not at all."

I think Mr.  Sumption thought he'd go with us, but Daddy, out really
saying it, made it clear he meant just the two tlS.

As we walked down to the outhouse and the river, Daddy

"We washed her off, Harry, but that was most likely a stake.  There
were probably things could have been learned the body.  If I had any
education, I'd have thought of

All I was thinking was here was this nice lady in all mess.  Unclothed.
Cut up.  Tossed out like garbage." We climbed down the bank and stood
near the mound of

It stunk something terrible.  Flies rose up in a blue cloud.  The
water, though no longer high, was still turn blingalong at a rapid
brown clip.

"It's funny the good stuff goes in a belly, sure comes out :rotten,"
Daddy said.

"He dump her here, Daddy?"

"I don't think so.  This is just where she ended up.  Body ain't that
long dead.  Few days."

"Maybe about the same time Miss Maggie was killed?" "Could be."

"That night, I went by Mrs.  Canerton's.  Tryin' to return a book.  She
wasn't home.  You think she could have been dead then?"

"It's possible, Harry.  Way the river looks, she could have been dumped
down a spell, and with all that floodin', car tied up to here.  I doubt
the killer come through Clem's yard and dumped her.  It's possible, but
it seems more risky than have to be.  So far, he's been dumpin' down
deep in the

"You know what I was thinkin' ?"  I asked.

"That Miss Maggie and Mrs.  Canerton were killed about the same time. 
And you seen that car of Red's, and his car and he's missin'.  You're
thinkin' he could it.  That right?"

"Yes sir."

Daddy took his pipe out of his shirt pocket,

lit it.  "I guess Red could have killed Miss Maggie told him the truth
and he didn't like it, but that don' he killed Louise.  "Course, it's
quite a coincidence,

"Red could have left his car and took a boat Daddy."

Daddy nodded, lifted a leg, thumped his pipe a bottom of his shoe.  "He
could have at that.  Thing is, imagine Red doin' this kind of thing. 
I've known him time.  He might have killed Miss Maggie, and that,
enough to believe... Jesus, I can't believe he was colored.  Way he
looked."

"It's what Doc Tinn told us."

Daddy tucked his pipe into his pocket, looked river.  "Doc Tinn seems
like a fella not prone to

I think on it, things kinda fit.  And the way Red colored, and findin'
out he was colored, he could it.  He could have found out some time ago
in fact,

led to the rage of him kinin' them colored women." "Not all of them
were colored," I said. "Yeah.  But I'm thinkin' it set him off."

I told him then what Doc Tinn had told us kinds of killers, his
thoughts on them.

Daddy listened carefully, bent, picked up a tossed it into the river. 
"Why don't you and me walk yonder."

We climbed the bank and took the trail along

It was narrow and we had to push limbs and brush our way.  The trees
were thick and dark and held the rains; they leaked it as if they were
rain clouds..

97'1

I watched Daddy out of the corner of my eye.  His tan was damp with the
water drops and they had fallen on shoulders of his shirt, creatinga
dark wet mantle.  He big again to me, as if he had gained three inches
in ht from just a short time ago.

It wasn't easy to see the river, and yet we could hear it like a
contented lion a few feet away, behind and )w the thick growth of trees
and brush.  It gave off a smell decayed fish, wet dirt, and aromas
unidentified, mixed the sweetness of the pines.

"What are we lookin' for, Daddy?"

"I don't know."

We walked along the river for an hour or two, shoving way through the
brush from time to time, looking at the trying to find I didn't know
what.

As we walked, Daddy said, "Doc Tinn said something' to about when a body
gets dragged in the river, it gets scratched up along the belly, 'cause
that's how it flows in water.  Louise, she wasn't cut up like that. 
Just the knife of that nut.  All along in front of Clem's house, and
for couple miles along here, ain't nothin' but sand.  All this water
must have carried gravel with it, but if she ain't cut up bad, that
means she might not have been thrown in the river before the sand
bottom.  There ain't but one other area that's that smooth with sand,
it's miles up, and there's of gravel in between."

"I don't get it, Daddy."

"She had to have been chunked in the water along the Sandy bottom, or,
with all this flooding, and the river pushin'

on her, she'd have had gravel marks."

"For sure?"

"Well, no, but I figure it's a logical stretch."

"So this here is the sandy section?"

"Yep.  I'm bettin' she didn't go any farther than that.  An other
thing, there ain't but two or three good spots she have been dumped. 
Rest of it's just like we're goin' now, all that thick brush and trees
on either side of man was determined enough, he could have done it by
these bushes.  But if it's like I suspect, someone river, I figure he
picked one of the good spots."

The sunlight was weak in the thickness of the was we walked, and it
grew later, it became weaker the forest broke above and the limbs
didn't wind, through in gold red globs like busted apples dipped in

The trail finally thickened and the trees gave wide swath that wound
down to the river in a sandy disappeared in the water.

"Normally, this here is so clear, you can see You couldn't see bottom
now.  The water was foamy, carrying tree limbs and hunks of bark down
ity-split.

"I don't know what there would be to see," I Daddy grinned.  "Me
neither.  But I got me a our killer not only took Louise's car, but he
got rid of took enough of a chance drivin' it with her in it, or her
drive.  But he killed her, he got rid of it.  I surprised he done it
one of them spots I'm tellin' you You could drive a car through that
wide trail over up to the bank.  Ain't but two or three more spots
sandy stretch you could do that."

"He got rid of the car, how'd he get home?"

"I ain't got that all figured out, son.  But I figure one that plans. 
In the past, he ain't taken the

Fact is, them others didn't have any.  This time looks he did.  Well,
he comes down here, kills poor Louise, her in the river, tied up like
he likes, then he had to of the car.  He could have run it off in the
river, or

"Red's car was just left."

"That's right," Daddy said.  "I tell you what, son.  Comin' out of that
bottle, I'm feelin' like I can truly think a little again.  You don't
hate me, do you boy?"

"No sir," I said.  "Not even a little bit."

"Good.  Then everything's all right."

We walked down the wider trail a piece.  Come back to the river, got on
the narrow trail alongside it again.  It wasn't long before we come to
the next spot in the river.  It was kind of like the other sandy slide,
but here you could see where brush had been broken down, washed over by
the water.  The sun shining on the broken brush made the bits of sand
caught up in it twinkle like grit-ground diamonds.

Down in the river you could see the roof of a car.  It was, of course,
Mrs.  Canerton's.

"You was right, Daddy."

"Reckon so," he said.  "It's probably the first piece of truly
successful detective work I've ever done."

It was the next day before Daddy had some men help him pull the car
from the water.  Inside they found two water soaked books, The Time
Machine and White Fang.  They also found a metal flask contain inga
partial of whiskey, and a bottle of headache pills that the label said
was prescribed by Doc Stephenson.

Daddy's theory was Mrs.  Canerton was bringing me out two new books to
read, and that whoever killed her had followed in his car, and either
coaxed or ran her off the road. It could have been someone she knew. 
Someone she would stop for.

From there, whoever it was killed her and dumped her

Joe g. Laasdalo and her car.  Most likely his own car was nearby,

easy enough then for him to return home in his

It seemed logical, and it made me ill.

If Mrs.  Canerton had been bringing books out to I felt partially
responsible.  Everything seemed to be down on me like an anvil.

Just a short time before I had been a happy kid worries.  I didn't even
know it was the Depression, there were murderers outside of the
magazines I re at the barbershop, and none of the magazines I read do
with killers who did this kind of thing.  And Daddy,; a good man,
sincere and true, if briefly distracted, Doc Savage.

In the detective magazines the cops and private a clue or two, they put
it together.  Cracked the wide open.  In real life, there were clues a
plenty, but' of cracking the case open, they just made it all the
fusing.

Bottom line was, no one really knew any more did the night I found that
poor woman bound to a barbed wire.

I had learned too that the people I knew, or knew, had problems and
lives.  Mama and Daddy had I had seen Daddy fall off the wagon, and
suspected time Mama had fallen off as well, only it was a wagon; the
fall from it recorded by a tattoo on the Red Woodrow's forearm.

I found out my Daddy had a terrible temper.  I Mr.  Nation could beg
and cry and his boys could

Miss Maggie was Red's mother and Red might be But had he killed Miss
Maggie and Mrs.  Canerton? so, why?  And where was he now?

People I knew had turned out to be strange and They had hung Mose and
kicked and hit me and my

I wouldn't have been surprised right then to discover the could be
reached by climbing to the top of the high tree, and with a good pair
of scissors you could snip it in half.

We all went to Mrs.  Canerton's funeral.  Me and II stood in the front
row at the Bethel Baptist was there.  Just about everyone in town and
around cept the Nations and some of the people who had lynch mob that
killed Mose.

Even Doc Stephenson showed up, stood in the looked more disappointed
than sad.  Doc Taylor well.  He sat next to Doc Stephenson with his
hands in his face as blank as the wind.  It was said he was taking
hard; that he and she had recently become a serious

Within a week Daddy's customers among them members of the lynch party,
and the them wanted him to cut their hair.  He had to go back
regularly.  I don't know how he felt about that, cutting of those who
had beaten me and him that day, that had Mose.  But he cut their hair
and took their money.  Maybe saw it as a kind of revenge.  Maybe he was
easy to forget.  And maybe we just needed the money.

Mama took a job in town at the courthouse.  She rode with Daddy.  That
left Grandma with us, and she had dea habit of driving into town a
couple times a week to the men at the barbershop and to go over and
visit with Groon.

They rode around town and throughout the country together. sometimes
drove her all the way over to Tyler just to eat at a care and go to a
show.

As was the habit with things, talk about the murders died clown.  Daddy
dried out the pulp paper he had removed from Canerton, but like the
others it was too far gone.  And even if it hadn't been, it was hard to
see how it could mean anything.

Mose was no longer mentioned.  It was as if the poor man never existed.
Some still wanted him to be the killer, in spite of Mrs.  Canerton
turning up like she did.  The most common story now was Red had done
it, then gone off somewhere, never to return.  No one claimed to be
getting postcards from him any more.  Just goes to show you how fickle
people are.

The world slipped back to about as normal as it would ever be again,
though to my eyes it was never as sharp and clean and clear as it had
been, and nothing I could do would ever completely bring it back.

As for the murderer, me and Tom weren't so convinced it was Red, or
that it was over.  We still had it in our heads it was the Goat Man. 
And on a day when Mama and Daddy were at work and Grandma had spiffed
up and gone into town to flirt with Mr.  Groon, we decided to head out
to Mose's shack, carrying the shotgun.

That's where the Goat Man had last been seen, and I was determined to
find out more about him, maybe capture him. There was a part of me that
wanted to be a hero.  To that end We took along the shotgun and some
good strong rope.

Looking back on all this, it seems damn foolish.  But at the time it
made perfect sense.  We thought we could hold the Goat

Joe g. taasdale

Man at bay with the shotgun, or maybe wound him up and bring him in.

Then again, could the Goat Man talk?  Could he Did he speak English? 
Did he have supernatural suspected he might, and to that end, we also
took Bible.  I had read somewhere, probably in one of zincs at the
barbershop, if you held up the Word, cringe.

Me and Tom had made this plan to kill or capture t Man the night
before, after sitting around for days it.

As soon as Grandma's car had rolled out of out for the woods.  I
carried the shotgun.  Toby with us, and even with his injured back, he
made time.

We also had a notion the Goat Man didn't have ers by day, and if we
could find his lair, he could How this notion had been formed is hard
to say, but' come to believe it as certain as we believed Daddy a stick
over Nation's noggin faster than a chicken can and that the Word could
be held up against evil.

We worked our way deep into the woods where twisted wild and loud
between high banks and hi where the vines and brush wadded together and
became i impenetrable.

We walked along the bank, looking for a place to the Swinging Bridge. 
Neither of us wanted to cross and we used the excuse that Toby couldn't
cross it, but just an excuse.

We walked a long ways and finally came to the shack Mose had lived.  We
just stood there looking at it.  It had i been much, just a hovel made
of wood and tin and Mose mostly set outside of it in an old chair under
a tree that overlooked the river.

It looked to have weathered badly since that time Grandma

I had been trapped in it and we had seen the face of the

Man at the window.

The door was wide open.

"What if the Goat Man is waitin' inside?"  Tom asked. I'll cut down on
him with this here shotgun," I said.  "That's

"Maybe we ought to peek in a window first."

That sounded like good advice, but we couldn't make out in there, just
enough to assure us the Goat Man wasn't lurking about

It was a bigger mess inside than before.  Toby went inside sniffed and
prowled about till we called him out of it.  We went inside and looked
around.  Light came through the yellow paper over the paneless window,
and wind whipped in with it.

window that had glass had been broken out, probably by ikids, and from
that direction the light was weak.

The framed photograph with the Sears picture stuck in the frame was
knocked off thetable, and I picked it up.  With the i door open rain
had run in and ruined it, meshing the Sears photo to the photograph,
blurring the whole thing into a kind of mush.

I put it on thetable, laying it face down this time. "I don't like it
in here," Tom said. "Me neither."

When we went out, I made sure to close the door good. We walked around
the house, to the side facing the river, and finally down to the water.
Looking back at the house, I noted there was something hanging on a
nail on the outside Wall.  It was a chain, and from the chain hung a
number of fish Skeletons, and one fresh fish.

We went over and looked at it.

"It looks like it's just been hung up there," Tom said.  "There's water
drippin' off of it."

The fish bones along with the fresh fish showed me some

Joe g. Lansdale one had been hanging fish there on a regular basis, and
time, like an offering to Mose.

On another nail, strings tied together, was a pair of that had most
likely been fished from the river.  Hung was a water-warped belt.  On
the ground, lean inga side of the house, below the nail with the shoes,
was a a bright blue river rock, and a mason jar.  All of it laid
gifts.

I took the dead fish down, all the old bones, and into the river and
put the chain back on the nail.  I

shoes and belt, the plate, rock, and mason jar into the "What'd you do
that for?"  Tom asked.

"I think that fish was still alive.  It don't need to no one gonna come
get it and cook it." "We could." "But we ain't."

"You throwed all that other stuff away too.  That mean, Harry.  Someone
is hanging it here like a gift."

"I know," I said.  "That's why I done it.  Not out of ness, but so the
gifts would seem to be taken."

I couldn't really explain it.  It just seemed like the do.

Mose's old boat was still by the house, laid up on it wouldn't rot.  A
paddle lay in its bottom.  We decided it and float it downriver to
where the briar tunnels loaded Toby in the boat, along with our
shotgun, pushed the water and set out.  We floated the long distance
back! Swinging Bridge and under it, watching to see if the Goat might
be lurking about  Our idea that he was afraid of was fading, and we
had begun to feel nervous, and just: foolish.

We had been a lot braver planning than doing.

In shadow, under the bridge, deep into the bank, was like a cave.  I
imagined that was where the Goat Man lived, waiting for prey.

The thing to do, of course, was beard him in his lair.  But we didn't. 
We didn't say a word.  We just paddled on by.

We paddled gently to the riverbank where we had found the woman bound
to the tree.  There was no real sign she had ever been there.  It
seemed like a dream.

We pulled the boat onto the dirt and gravel bank and left it there as we
went up thetaller part of the bank, and into the briars.  We hadn't
discussed this, but we wanted to see the spot where we had found the
first body, where we had been frightened in the tunnel of briars.

The tunnel was the same, and it was clear in the daytime that the
tunnel had, as we suspected, been cut into the briars. It was not as
large or as long a tunnel as it had seemed that night, and it emptied
out into a wider tunnel, and it too was shorter and smaller than we had
remembered.

There were little bits of colored cloth hung on briars, like
decoration.  There was a red strip and a blue strip and a white strip
with little red flowers on it.  There were pictures from the Sears and
Roebuck catalogue of women in underwear and there were a few of those
playing cards like I had heard about. The briars were poked through the
pictures where the women's crotches were.

In the middle of the tunnel was a place where someone had built a fire,
and above us the briars wrapped so thick and were so intertwined with
low-hanging branches you could imagine nauch of this place staying dry
duringa rainstorm.

We hadn't seen all those pieces of cloth and paper that night, but
they, or ones like them, might have been there.  Dry as the place was,
during all that raining and flooding, it couldn't have remained
completely dry.  Someone would have to have been adding fresh material
to it from time to time.

Toby was sniffing and running about as best his poor old damaged back
and legs would allow him.  He was one spot, then another, leaving his
mark all over.  He itated as if the briars were full of squirrels.

"It's like some kind of nest," Tom said.  "The nest."

A chill came over me and it occurred to me that if true, and if this
was his den instead of the cave under the he might come home at any
time.  I told Tom that, and up Toby and got out of there, tried to
paddle the boat river, but couldn't.

We finally got out and made to carry it along the it was too heavy.  We
gave up and left it by the river.  We past the Swinging Bridge and for
a long ways after that found a sandbar.  We used that to cross, went
back ished the chores, cleaned ourselves and Toby up before and Daddy
and Grandma came home.

We thought about what we had seen all day, and telling Daddy, but since
we weren't supposed to have where, our young minds were at an impasse. 
What seemed obvious to someone older didn't seem all that to us.

That night, as me and Tom were out on the whispering, Grandma came out.
We went quiet.  She two been actin' like conspirators all day.  I'm
too nosy go."

"It ain't nothin'," Tom said.

"I believe it is something'," Grandma said, seating the swing between
our beds.  "Why don't you tell me.  I

I ain't gonna tell your Mama and Daddy."

We, of course, were dying to tell someone.  I looked she nodded.  I
nodded back.  Tom said, "You swear not less'n your head falls off and
gets covered in ants."

Grandma laughed.  "Well, I wouldn't want that.  So I We told her all
about it.  When we finished she said the only detectives.  And since
all three of us are detectin',

need to make a pact right now.  We're gonna keep what we know between
us."

"I don't know," I said.  "Daddy might need to know some of this."

Grandma considered.  I knew enough about her to know she was the one
that always wanted to be in the know.  So it was no surprise to me when
she made her proposition.

"Tell you what.  Let's keep it to ourselves, unless, or until, we got
enough evidence your Daddy can use.  That fair enough, kids?"

We agreed it was.

"Then we'll make a pact to that effect, lest our heads fall off and get
covered in ants."

We swore it.

Grandma said, "I was in town today.  I went over and visited Mr. 
Groon.  He's such a nice man." "You visit him a lot," Tom said. "I
suppose I do."

"Then you don't think he had anything to do with this mess?" I asked.

"Heaven forbid.  No, I don't."

"He's in the Klan," Tom said.

"Was," Grandma said.  "Me and him talked, and he brought up the little
incident here on his own.  He said he dropped out. And he is Jewish. 
Said he joined up with them boys without really thinkin'.  He thought
they was out for right doin'.  He saw a movie once called Birth of a
Nation, and in that the Klansmen were good fellows.  But after the
other night, out here with your Daddy, and Mose getting' hung and all,
he got to figurin' that for the grace of God should they figure on the
fact he's a Jew, he could have been on the end of that rope.  He got
out of the Klan.  Burned his robes."

"Grandma?"  Tom asked.  "Is he your boyfriend?"

:

"Hardly... Well, not yet.  It could happen that i: Tom giggled. 
"Grandma.  You're too old." i

"Just by your standards, young lady.  What y'all say at this shack of
Mose's tomorrow, and that cave and tunnel too."

Next morning, when Mama and Daddy left for

Grandma, Tom, and Toby climbed in Grandma's car shotgun, and she drove
us over to Mose's shack.  About there, I remembered that I forgotten
the Bible.

I had a hunch about Mose's old shack, and I wanted to

it out.  But my hunch was wrong.  There was nothing new from the nails,
or leaned against the wall outside.  But something curious.  The boat
we had left on the bank was:

in its place atop the rocks with the paddle inside.

We told Grandma about that. :'

"Well, I'll swan," she said.

We looked around the shack for a while.  It was the as yesterday,
except the water-meshed photograph in the had been set up on thetable,
and the faded Sears and cutout of a little boy colored in pencil was
nowhere to

When I told Grandma that, she said, "Someone visits that's for sure. 
Question is, why?  Tell you what, let's boat and see this place of
yours," Grandma said.

Grandma got in the boat, me and Tom pushed it

': water, and with me paddling, Tom sitting in the front of playing
guide, we made our way to the briar tunnel, It pleasant trip.  The day
was warm, the river was running and the water was dappled with the
shadows of trees.

On the shore I saw a huge water moccasin basking on:

twisted root of a big willow tree.  Frogs plopped off the and into the
water.  Little black bugs darted about on the surface of the river as
if they were Northern ice skaters.  Twice I saW turtle heads poke out
of the water to see if we were edible, then bob out of view.

When we docked the boat and got up there in the tunnel, it was dark in
spots, but there were streamers of light shining in and the edges of
the lights were like the sharp blades of archangels' swords, and the
light showed the bits of cloth and the paper cut from the catalogues. 
Grandma looked around, touching the bits of cloth and paper.

She said, "I don't judge this to be any kind of killer's nest. Some
kids, boys most likely, have made them a playhouse.  They got them some
colored cloth and some pictures to spice up the place."

"But some of them pictures are of women in their underwear," I said.

"You don't look at them same pictures while you're out there in the
outhouse, Harry?  You just use that catalogue to wipe on?"

Grandma asked.

I blushed.

Tom gave me a look that told me I hadn't heard the end of this.

"You can see where he built him a fire," I said.

"Kids or hoboes could have built a fire," Grandma said. "And if you
think, about it, why would the killer want a fire? I don't think he
stays down here.  I think he lives among us, or near us."

"He built it so he could see at night," Tom said.

"I guess that's possible," Grandma said.  I could tell she had already
made up her mind.

"But he could come here," Tom said.  "He could use this place."

"You could be right," Grandma s aid.  "But I think you'll find kids
are makin' 'em a playhouse here.  Hoboes might it to hide out."

"Ain't it far in the woods for hoboes?"

"Who's to say?"  Grandma said.  "Let's see we can boat back, and be
back home when your Mama and off work."

"Aw," Tom said.  "We got plenty of time." "Yeah," Grandma said.  "But
we're goin' anyway." We went back to the boat, ready to carry it when
it came down to brass tacks, Grandma bother.

"Mose is dead," she said.  "And we ain't gonna luck paddling against
the current.  Carryin' it will wear u We'll just leave it.  Besides,
whoever brung it back might do the same."

We started walking.  All the way to where we over in the shallows, and
all the way back to the car, feeling that someone was moving silently
between looking at us through the leaves, peeking out from ows.  But
every time I looked, I didn't see anything woods and the leaves and
river.

That night I lay in bed and tried to think on thin kept coming back to
this.  Grandma was a grown-up, and one, but she wasn't no better
detective than Daddy, wasn't worth a hoot, and he'd tell you so.  Me
and Tom so good either, but both of us had come to one murderer was the
Goat Man, or what Miss Maggie Travelin' Man.

Thinking on Miss Maggie I felt sad again.  There be any more of her
fine cooking, or her wonderful stories.

gone.  Murdered in the very home where I sat with her many time and she
had laughed and called me Little Man.

And

Mrs.  Canerton.  She might have died because she was me books.  She
might have been in the wrong place at wrong time.  I knew it wasn't my
fault, but a feeling of guilt ed through me just the same.

Poor Mrs.  Canerton had always been so nice.  All those books.
Halloween parties.  The way she smiled.  Her breasts in that "ss last
Halloween night.  White and pure, with a collar touched with little red
roses.

As I drifted off to sleep I thought of telling Daddy about the 'ears
catalogue pictures and the cloth and such in the briar tunnel, but I
had made Grandma a promise not to tell.  I wasn't sure should have made
that promise.  I was thinking about going back on it, or begging off of
it, when sleep overtook me.

When I awoke the next morning, none of it seemed so all fired
important, and in time Grandma seemed to forget all about it.  She had
found something new to occupy her.  Mr.  Groon.  She even took to doing
what a lot of folks thought was unladylike;

stayed around his store, visiting with him, helping him stock shelves
and such, and for no pay at all.

From time to time, me and Tom slipped off and went down to Mose's old
cabin.  Now and then there would be a fish on nail, or some odd thing
from the river.

I reasoned that someone was bringing Mose gifts, perhaps Unaware he was
dead.  Or maybe they had been left there for Some other reason.

We dutifully took down what was there and returned it to the river,
wondering if maybe it was the Goat Man leaving the goods, and if so,
why would he do it?  Could a monster like that have liked Mose?  Could
they have been an offering to the devil, like in Miss Maggie's story
about the Travelin' Man?  It Wasn't peed-in whiskey, but who was to say
if the devil liked and junk from the river?

When we looked around for sign of the Goat could find were prints from
someone wearing No hoofprints.

Sometimes we both sensed someone watching us. brought the shotgun with
me, hoping that old Goat show himself, give me just one shot.  All the
the world couldn't do what one shotgun blast could. Then a thought hit
Tom one day while we were river.

"What if the devil ain't bothered by no shotgun?"

I hadn't considered that.  But I should have.  After the devil.

We went away from there, less sure of ourselves. or no shotgun, and we
didn't go back for a long time the next few days I wondered if fresh
fish and thin river were on them nails, and what did the provider they
weren't gone when he came back?  Or had he ing us all along from the
concealment of the woods? mystery too large for my mind, and finally, I
had aside .... s the summer moved on, it got hotter and hotter, and
the i air was like having a blanket wrapped twice around your and
sometimes it seemed as if the blanket was on fire filled with smoke.

Got so you hardly wanted to move midday, and for a time 'e quit
slipping off down to the river even to fish, and stayed close at
home.

That Fourth of July, our little town decided to have acele brat ion 
Me and Tom were excited because there were to be 'firecrackers and
Roman candles and all manner of other fire Works, and, of course,
plenty of home cooked food.

Even more exciting was the fact they were gonna have a moving picture
show.

Folks still thought about and talked about the killer from lime to
time, but most had settled on Red as the culprit, and since his car had
been found and his house seemed to have been left pretty much as it
always was, rumor got around that Daddy been close to figuring out he
was the one, so he'd took off. The story seemed to satisfy people
because it's what they wanted to believe.  It was easier to lie down at
night, or out to the outhouse beneath the moonlight, or check on trot
lines, if you thought the killer was long gone.

Women could lie a little easier in their beds, even had taken to
locking doors and windows something not before the coming of the
Bottoms Killer.

Even Daddy and Mama and Grandma had come to it had been Red.  It seemed
reasonable.

Me and Tom kept our eyes peeled, expecting the the Goat Man at any
moment.  We figured he was just

,. there in the woods waiting till things settled down,

least expected it, then he'd strike.

But on the day of the Fourth, a day of ice cream,

and a picture show, we dropped our guard.  We had before, of course,
and nothing had happened.  And how anything happen on a hot Fourth of
July with all the ful things we had to look forward to?

The town gathered late afternoon before dark.  Main had been blocked
off, which was no big deal as traffic anyway.  Tables with covered
dishes, watermelons,

ice cream on them were set up in the street, and after the

':, tist preacher said a few words, everyone got a plate and

: around and helped themselves.

I remember Daddy telling Mama that he was tables were well stocked, not
only because there was food, but that it had hastened the preacher
through his

The Reverend was known to be an eager and accomplished

I ate a little of most everything, zeroing in on mashed toes and gravy
and mincemeat, apple, and pear pies.

pie and cake and nothing else except watermelon that helped her cut.

There was a circle of chairs between thetables and the chairs was a
kind of makeshift stage.  There were a ful of folks with guitars and
fiddles playing and sin men and women folks would gather in the middle
of the close doff street and dance to the tunes.  Mama and Daddy were
dancing too, and Grandma and Mr.  Groon.  Doc Taylor was holding Tom's
hands, and he was dancing with her.  He was so big, and she was so
small, it's like when you pick a dog's front paws up and make him hop
around on his back legs.  He looked happy, though rumor was he was
fretting hard over Louise Canerton.

I kept thinking Mr.  Nation and his boys would show, as they were
always ones to be about when there was free food or the possibility of
a drink, but they didn't.  I guess that was because of Daddy.  Mr. 
Nation might have looked tough and had a big mouth, but that axe handle
had tamed him, and Mr.  Sumption had seen that word had gone around
town about it, and long after my father died, there were still those
who talked about that beating as if they had seen it, and in time it
joined in with the story of Mr.  Crittendon's hogs and eventually
attained a position in local mythology.

As the night wore on, the music was stopped and the movie was shown. 
It was an older one.  Silent and full of cowboys and gunplay.  The tent
under which it was reeled was full of yells and hoots and young drunk
men talking for the voiceless characters

Finally, late in the night, fireworks were set.  The firecrackers
popped and the Roman candles and rockets exploded high above Main
Street, burst into burning rainbows that pinned them selves against the
night, then fizzled.

Tom had deserted Taylor, who had found a young woman to dance
with--Miss Buena Lee Birdwell--and was sitting on Cecil's knee,
clapping and keeping time to the music, bouncing up and down, waiting
for the next big slap of colors against the smooth night sky.

I remember watching as one bright swath did not fade right away, but
dropped to earth like a falling star, and as my eyes followed it down,
it dipped behind Cecil and Tom.  In the final light from its burst I
could see Tom's smiling face, and his hands on her shoulders, his leg
riding her up and it kept time with the music.  And nearby, next to a
table with food, stood Doc Stephenson, hands in his pockets.

I had noticed him earlier, moving among the dancers, not dancing
himself, just weaving through as if he were ing them with himself.  Now
he stood wearing his usual face, looking at Tom on Cecil's lap, his
face slack and with sweat.  Above and beyond him the sky exploded
with

When we got home late that night we were all wide and we sat down for a
while under the big oak outside drank some apple cider.  It was great
fun, but I kept uncomfortable feeling of being watched.  "

I scanned the woods, but didn't see anything.  Tom seem to be bothered.
Mama, Daddy, and Grandma didn't any signs either.  Still, that didn't
soothe me.

Not long after a possum presented itself at the edge woods, peeked out
at our celebration, and disappeared back! the darkness.  I felt a sigh
of relief.

Daddy and Mama sang a few tunes as he picked guitar, then he picked
while Mama and Grandma sang pie songs together.  From time to time Toby
howled.

After that Grandma, Mama, and Daddy told stories Mama sitting in his
lap as they did so.  Daddy knew one an old gunfighter who had been
buried with his horse.  posedly no one but him had ever ridden it, and
when he'I, wounded while being pursued by the law, he killed horse and
himself rather than be caught or have his horse, den by another man. 
The posse found him buried him . spot with the animal, and Daddy said
he had relatives there were times of the year when they could see that
oldl dit riding his horse down the road at a dead run, and then when it
got to where he and the horse were buried, it would disappear.

Grandma said her grandmother told stories of a pigeon appearing in a
room when someone was about to die.  And upon the moment of their
death, the pigeon would fly up and away to the ceiling, and would cease
to be seen, but for moments after you could hear the beating of its
wings.  Her grandmother said the pigeon came to carry the soul away.

Mama told one about how up in the Ozarks a panther had chased a woman
and her baby in a buckboard one night.  The woman could see the panther
gaining on them in the moonlight. It ran right alongside the horses,
nearly panicking them.  Thinking quickly, the mother began throwing
pieces of the baby's clothing out along the road to distract it with
its human smell. When the panther ceased to maul the clothing, and
would reap pear, running close to the carriage and the horses, the lady
would toss out yet another piece.  Finally, she was down to tossing out
her own clothing, and finally she was able to gain pacing ahead of the
cat.  But when the lady, nearly naked, arrived at the house of a
relative, she found to her horror the back of the carriage was
scratched out, and the cradle where the baby had lain was empty.

After the stories we took turns going to the outhouse, Tom having
Grandma walk out with her, and me wanting her to walk with me, but
being too proud to ask.  I did my business quickly, in the dark, in the
stink, an owl hooting somewhere, a Sears and Roebuck catalogue clutched
in my hand.

Finally, we washed up, said our good nights, and went to bed.

As I lay on my pallet that night, I decided to slide put my ear to the
wall.  I hadn't done that in some this night I wanted to hear my Mama's
and Daddy's wanted to feel that they were once again connected,

all was right with the world.

I listened for a while, and they talked of this and they begin to talk
softer and I heard Mama say: "The will hear, honey.  These walls are
paper-thin.",

"Don't you want to?"

"Of course.  Sure."

"The walls are always paper-thin."

"You're not always like you are tonight.  You know are when you're like
this."

"How am I?"

Mama laughed.  "Loud."

"Listen, honey.  It's been a while since I been ri know ... And really,
you know, I need to.  Don't you

"Sure."

"I want to be loud.  What say we take the car down a piece?  I know a
spot."

"Jacob.  What if someone came along?"

"I know a spot they won't come along."

"Well, we don't have to do that.  We can do it just have to be
quiet."

"I don't want to be quiet.  And even if I did, it's night.  I'm not
sleepy."

"What about the children?"

"It's just down the road, hon.  Grandma's here with It'll be fun."

"All right... All right.  Why not?"

Thunder rumbled.  I heard Mama say, "Oh, Jacob.

that's a warnin'.  You know, we ain't supposed to."

"Be fruitful and multiply."

"I don't think multiplying is what we need."

I heard Daddy laugh, and Mama giggled.

I lay there wondering what in the world had gotten into my parents. 
Their room went silent, and not long after I heard the car start up,
and glide away down the road. Where could they be going? And why?

It was really some years later before I realized what was going on.  I
had begun to learn about sex, of course, but I wasn't so well versed in
it that I understood what was going on between grown-ups, especially my
own parents.  I just couldn't imagine that, them making love.  I
suppose the main reason they drove off that night was that the idea of
doing something a little different, making love in a car appealed to
them.  That way, for a moment they were just two lovers enjoying each
other's bodies in a romantic setting.

I contemplated it for a time, then nodded off, the wind turning from
warm to cool by the touch of oncoming rain.

Some time later I was awakened by Toby barking, but it didn't last and
I went back to sleep.  After that, I heard a tap i ping sound.  It was
as if some bird were pecking corn from a hard surface.  I gradually
opened my eyes and turned in my bed and saw a figure through the screen
door.  It was just standing there, looking in.

Though it was cool, the storm was still in the distance, and there was
no cloud cover, and the moon was bright.  In that moment of awakening,
in the glow of the moonlight, I realized there was a huge hole cut in
the screen and that the latch had been undone.

It was then that sleep wore away completely and I realized it wasn't a
dream.  I sat bolt upright on my pallet, looking at the shape beyond
the screen.

It was dark with horns on its head, and one hand was tap on the
screen's frame with long fingernails.  The Goat Man Was making a kind
of grunting sound.

"Go away!"  I said.

But the shape remained and its gruntings changed topers  The wind
blew, and the shape seemed to blow coast to the right of the screened
porch and out of si

I jerked my head toward Tom's pallet, and saw gone.

I got up quickly and ran over to the screen, looked i hole that had
been cut in it.  I pushed the screen open, out on the back steps.

Out by the woods I could see the Goat Man.  He hand and summoned me.

i hesitated.  I ran to Mama and Daddy's room, but gone.  I dimly
remembered before dropping off to had driven off in the car, for God
knows what.

I opened the door into Grandma's room.

She sat upright as if jerked up on a string.  "What ini "The Goat Man,
he got Tom."

Grandma tossed back the covers and rolled out of had on her nightgown
and her long hair fell well shoulders, framing her face like a
helmet.

She ran out on the porch.  She saw the empty pallet, open screen.

"Get your Daddy," she said. "He and Mama ain't here." "What?"

"They went off in the car."

Grandma was considering that, trying to put it said, "Look Grandma, out
by the woods."

The Goat Man was still there.

"Keep an eye on 'im.  I'm grabbin' my shotgun shoes."

Moments later Grandma reappeared with her shot shoes on her feet.  I
had slipped into my overalls and my feet in my shoes while I was
waiting.  The Goat Man had not moved.  He was waving us on.

"The sonofabitch is taunting us," Grandma said.

"Yeah, but where's Tom?"  I said.

I could see Grandma's face drop, and there in the moon light netted by
the shadow of the screen, she suddenly looked ancient, almost
hag-like.

"Come on," she said.

She pushed open the screen door with the stock of the rifle, started
racing toward the Goat Man.  She moved very fast.  The wind caught at
her white gown and flicked it about her and the moon danced blue beams
off the barrel of the shotgun.  She looked like a wraith burst loose
from hell.

I rushed after Grandma, and found it hard to keep up.  The Goat Man
ducked into the shadows, silent as thought.

As I ran, I began calling for Tom, and Grandma picked up on it and
started doing the same, but Tom didn't answer.  I tripped and went
down.  When I rose to my knees I saw that I had tripped over Toby.  He
lay still on the ground, just inside the woods.  I picked him up.  His
head rolled limp to one side.  He whimpered softly, his back legs
kicked desperately.  Blood leaked from his head where he had been
whacked.

After all he had been through he had had his head battered, and was
probably dying.  He had barked earlier, to warn me about the Goat Man,
and I hadn't listened.  I had rolled over and gone to sleep, and the
Goat Man had come for Tom.  Now Toby was injured and dying and Tom was
missing, and Mama and Daddy had gone off somewhere in the car, and the
Goat Man was no longer in sight.

And for that matter, neither was Grandma.

didn't leave him bleed and but I had want to to die,

Grandma find the Goat Man and Tom.  I put Toby pushed back the tears,
ran blindly into the woods, down row path Grandma had taken in her
pursuit of the

I fully expected at any moment to fall over Grandma's or body, but that
didn't happen.  I finally began to catch

Grandma.  She wasn't moving so fast now.  She was breathing hard.  Her
nightgown had been ripped by so had her hair.  She looked absolutely
crazed.

"Hon, you got to follow," she said.  "I can't go step... I got to sit
and rest... I ain't as tough as I

went through them brambles there.  You got to hurry..

the shotgun."

"I don't want to leave you here."

"You got to follow him, find Tom.  You got the gun.

got none, but I seen he's got a knife.  A big'n, strapped side.  You
make him tell where Tom is, hear?  Oh, Jesus,

like I'm gonna die.  My heart's actin' up.  Go... go,

Grandma collapsed to the ground on her butt, her chest irg as if pumped
with bellows.  As Grandma lay down, I snatched up the shotgun, darted
through the brambles, broke out onto a narrow pine-straw-littered
trail.  The moonlight danced through the boughs overhead and lit up the
path.  I could see where the Goat Man had pushed back limbs, even
broken a few, as if he wanted me to inspect the direction he had
gone.

There was enough moon for me to see where I was going, but not enough
to keep every shadow from looking like the Goat Man, coiled and ready
to pounce.  The wind was sighing through the trees and there were bits
of rain with it, and the rain was cool.  Gradually the moon was being
bagged by rain clouds.

I didn't know if I should go on, or go back and get Grandma and try and
find Mama and Daddy.  I felt that no matter what I did, valuable time
was being lost.  There was no telling what the Goat Man was doing to
poor Tom.  Had he tied her up and put her at the edge of the woods
before coming back to taunt me at the window?  Maybe he already done
what he had wanted to do to Tom, and now he wanted me too.

I thought of what had been done to all those poor women, and I thought
of Tom, and a sickness came over me, and I ran faster, deciding it was
best to continue on course, hoping I'd come on the monster and would
get a clear shot at him and be able to rescue Tom.

It was then that I saw a strange thing in the middle of the trail,
prominent in the moonlight breaking through the trees.  A limb had been
broken off, and it was forced into the ground.  It Was bent to the
right at the top and whittled on to make it sharp. It was like a kind
of arrow pointing the way.

The Goat Man was having his fun with me.  I decided I had no choice
other than to go where the arrow was pointing, a little trail even
more narrow than the one I was on.

I went down it, and in the middle of it was another limb,

this one more hastily prepared, just broken off and stuck ground, bent
over at the middle and pointing to the right

Where it pointed wasn't hardly even a trail, just a bre and there in
the trees.  I went that way, spiderwebs twi: my hair, limbs slapping me
across the face, and before it my feet had gone out from under me and I
was the edge of an embankment, and when I hit on the seat pants and
looked out, I was at the road, the one the traveled.  The Goat Man had
brought me to the road by a cut and had gone straight down it, because
right in front drawn in the dirt of the road, was an arrow.  If he the
road or travel it, that meant he could go anywhere There wasn't any
safe place from the Goat Man. about the road stopping him, about him
not being able to the bottoms, it was all wrong.

The Goat Man could do anything he wanted to. I picked up the shotgun I
had dropped, ran down I wasn't even looking for sign anymore.  I was
heading Swinging Bridge and across from that the briar posed he could
have Tom under the bridge, in the spite of what Grandma had said, I
knew those tunnels nest, and I wanted to find him there, and I wanted
to kill him.  I wanted Tom to be okay.  I wanted to be a wanted not to
be dead.  I wanted that a lot.  Then I a shotgun blast could stop the
Goat Man.  I had thought before and wondered, but now, chasing him like
this, ing me on, I certainly wondered it more than ever

As I ran, I became more certain that the place I was taken was the
briar tunnels, and that Tom, for better or was there.  Those tunnels
were where he had done his to those women before casting them in the
river.  By that dead colored woman there, he had been taunting showing
us not only the place of the murder, but the place of all the murders. 
A place where he could take his time and do what he wanted for as long
as he wanted.

I felt confident of my conclusions, though I could base them on little
more than intuition and childish fantasy.  I wished then I had pushed
my ideas on Daddy, but I hadn't, and now I had to deal with the
consequences.

When I got to the Swinging Bridge, the wind was blowing hard and the
moon showed itself to the world in patches.  The bridge lashed back and
forth, and I could easily visualize myself being tossed through the
air, a stone snapped from a sling. I decided I'd be better off to go
down to Mose's cabin and use his boat to make my way to the briar
tunnel.

I remembered we had left the boat along the shore, and my heart sank
momentarily, then I thought of how it had been returned before, and ran
down there hoping.

When I got there, the boat was in its spot, but when I put the shotgun
inside it and tried to push it out in the water, it bogged in the sand
and I couldn't move it.  I struggled a full five minutes, unable to
budge it, bursting into tears.

I took a deep breath.  I had no choice but the bridge.  Way the boat
was bogged down, there was no way I was going to move it by myself, and
I knew in my heart where the Goat Man had taken Tom.

As I raced past the cabin, up in the woods I saw the nose of some kind
of vehicle sticking out of the brush, the rest of it tucked between
trees.  It occurred to me that it might be Mama and Daddy for a moment,
but a quick look and I could tell it Wasn't their car.  It was a truck.
It really didn't matter.  It could be someone down on the river with a
boat, running night lines, or hunting possum or coon.

I turned and ran behind the shack on my way back to the bridge, saw
something that grabbed my attention.  It was hanging from the nail on
the back of the cabin.  It was a hand and part of a wrist.  Something
bright dangled from the hand.

Jne B, Lansdale

My knees sagged.  Tom.  Oh God.  Tom.

I went over to it slowly, bent forward, saw with hand was too large to
be Tom's, and it was mostly only a bit of flesh on it.  In the shadows
it had looked but it was anything but.  The rotting hand was in a half
it was hold inga little chain; the chain was draped bony fingers, and
in the partial open palm on a pad of ing flesh I could See what it held
was a bullet-dented coin.

Taylor's coin.

I was trying to reconcile this with the Goat Man, how it had all come
together, when there was a hand shoulder.

As I jerked my head around, I brought up the shot another hand came out
quickly and took it from me.

I was looking straight into the face of the Goat

The moon rolled out from behind a rain cloud, and fell into the Goat
Man's eyes.  They shone in his like cold emeralds.  They were the same
color as Mose's

The Goat Man made a soft grunting sound and shoulder.  I saw his horns
were not horns at all, but an ened straw hat that had rotted, leavinga
gap in the something had taken a bite out of it, and the tips the made
had been turned up by time, wind, and rain.

It was just a straw hat.  A blasted straw hat.  No

And those eyes.  That skin.  Mose's eyes.  Mose's

In that instant I knew.  The Goat Man wasn't any Goat at all.  He was
Mose's son, the one wasn't right in the was thought to be dead.  He'd
been living out here in the all this time, and Mose had been taking
care of him, son in his turn had been trying to take care of Mose, by
lag him gifts he found in the river, and he was still doing it, even if
Mose was dead and gone.  He was just a big dumb boy in a man's body,
wandering the woods wearing worn-out clothes and shoes with soles that
flopped.

The Goat Man turned and pointed upriver.  I knew then he hadn't killed
anyone, hadn't taken Tom.  He had come to warn me, let me know Tom had
been taken.  Now he was pointing the way.  I just knew it.  I didn't
know how he had come by the hand or Taylor's chain and coin, but I knew
the Goat Man hadn't killed anybody.  He had been watching our house;
maybe he thought of himself as a kid.  Hadn't aged a day in his head.
The sensation I had felt earlier hadn't been any possum watching us,
it had been the Goat Man.  He had been in the woods and had seen what
happened with Tom, and now he was trying to help me.

I broke loose from him, ran back to the boat, tried to push it free
again.  The Goat Man followed me, put the shotgun in the boat, grabbed
the end of it, and together we pushed it out of the sand and into the
river.

I splashed into the water with the Goat Man.  He grabbed me suddenly
and stuck me in the boat, pushed on out until the current had it
good.

I watched as he waded back toward shore and the cabin.  He stood on the
bank looking at me, like a friend who hated to see his playmate go
away.  The wind snapped at his old hat and plucked at his clothes as if
to remove them.

I picked up the paddle and went to work, trying not to think too much
about what was being done to Tom.

Dark clouds kept.  passing over the moon, but none grabbed it and held
it.  It peeked out every now and then, like a frightened child looking
out from beneath warm blankets.  The rain drops became more frequent as
the wind grew hard and slightly Cool with dampness.

I paddled so hard my back and shoulders began to ache, but the current
was with me, pulling me fast.  I passed a school of water moccasins
swimming in the dark.  I feared might try to climb up in the boat, as
they liked to do, it was a floating log and want inga rest.

I paddled quickly through them, spreading the school. indeed try to
climb up the side, but I brought the boat down on him hard and he went
back in the water, alive or I couldn't say.

As I paddled around a bend in the river, where moss down from trees
like curtains, and as I paddled through the fighting it the way you
might a thick swath of spiderwebs, I where the wild briars grew, and in
that moment I had a sinking feeling, like carry inga bucket full of
water and having the bottom drop out of it.

The feeling came not only for fear of what I might the briar tunnels,
but fear I might find nothing at all.

I was all wrong and the Goat Man did indeed have Tom. sibly in Mose's
cabin, hiding her there, waiting until I was of sight.  But if that was
true, why had he given my gun Then again, he wasn't bright.  He was a
creature of the same as a coon or a possum.  He didn't think like
regular

All of this went through my head and swirled confused itself with my
own dread and the thought of cutting down on a man with a shotgun.  I
felt like I was dream, like the kind I'd had when I'd had the flu some
before and everything had whirled and Mama's and voices echoed and
there were shadows all around me, grab at me and pull me away into who
knows where.

I paddled to the bank, got out, pulled the boat on shore I could.  I
couldn't quite get it out of the water since I tuckered out from
paddling.  I just hoped it would hang and hold.

I got the shotgun, went up the hill quietly, found the

,105

of the tunnel just beyond the tree, where me and Tom and Toby had come
out that night.

It was dark inside the briars.  The moon had gone behind a cloud and
the wind rattled the bone-like stickers and clicked them together. 
Bits of rain sliced through the briars, mixed with the sweat in my
hair, ran down my face, put salt in my mouth, and made me shiver.

July the Fourth, and I was cold.

Or was it the fifth now?  I remember thinking that.  Is it the fifth,
and knowing full well I shouldn't think that at all.  I had to keep my
mind sharp.

As I sneaked down the tunnel, through the briars I could see an orange
glow leaping, could see a shadow moving before the glow.  And I could
hear a crackling sound, like dry leaves being wadded up in a big man's
hand.

I trembled, eased forward, came to the end of the tunnel, and froze.  I
couldn't make myself turn into the large tunnel; the one that was
cave-like and held pieces of paper with pictures of women on them and
cloth.  And it came to me in a rush.  The cloth I had seen, white with
something red on it.  It was the trim on the dress Mrs.  Canerton had
worn the night of the party, and then, I assumed, the night of her
murder.

Suddenly, it was as if my feet were nailed to the ground.

I pulled back the hammer on the shotgun, slipped my face around the
edge of the briars, and looked.

There was a fire going in the center of the tunnel, in the spot where
Tom and I had seen the burn marks that day, and I could see Tom lying
on the ground, her clothes off and strewn about, and a man was leaning
over her, running his hands over her back and forth, making a sound
like an animal eating after a long time without food.  His hands flowed
over her as if he was play inga piano.

He picked up a Sears and Roebuck catalogue off the ground, tore out a
page, tore it again.  I could see in the firelight it was a picture of
a little girl.  He roiled the picture up tight, and gently placed it on
the ground.  I thought of ers, with those pieces of paper stuck into
them, and I of Doc Tinn and his talk of fetishes.

A huge cane knife was stuck up in the dirt near Tom' and Tom's face was
turned toward me.  Her eyes were full of tears and blood-red flickers
from the fire.  Tied mouth was a thick bandanna.  Her hands and feet
were with rope, and they were twisted at horrible angles.  It if she
would break at the slightest touch.

As I looked the man rose and I saw that his pants done and he had hold
of himself.  He was walking forth before the fire, looking down at Tom,
yelling, want to do this.  You make me do this.  It's your fault, you
You're getting just right.  Just right.  Tonight, you were

The voice was loud, but not like any voice I'd There was all the
darkness and wetness and muddiness bottom of the river in that voice,
all the decay of dead snakes and tossed garbage, the sewage from the
houses.

I hadn't been able to get a good look at his face, but sure from the
way he was built, and from seeing that Mrs.  Canerton's hand, that it
was Doc Taylor.  I figured grabbed at him while they fought, got hold
of his he cut her hand off, not knowing the chain had gone

Slowly he turned, and the way the fire caught his realized I was wrong.
 It wasn't Doc Taylor.  It was Mr. son, the older one.

Then he turned to where I could see him good, and it Nation's boy at
all.  I had merely thought it was because the kind of person I
expected.

I stepped fully into the tunnel, said, "Cecil."

The name came out of my mouth, without me really ning to say it.  Cecil
turned, and when he saw me his face

3B7

like it had been earlier, when Tom was being bounced on his knee and
the fireworks had exploded behind him.  It was neither happy nor sad,
but dreamy, like a man waking from some thing he couldn't quite
figure.

He let go of his privates, let them hang out for me to see, like some
kind of display at Groon's general store.

"Oh, boy," he said, his voice still husky and animal-like. "It's just
gone all wrong.  I didn't want to have to have Tom. I didn't.  But
she's been ripenin', boy, right in front of my eyes. Every time I saw
her, I said, no, you don't shit where you eat. But she's ripenin', boy.
And I thought I'd go to your place, peek in on her if I could, then I
seen her there, easy to take, and I knew tonight I had to have her. 
There wasn't nothing else for it."

"Why?"

"Oh, son.  There is no why.  I tell myself I won't, but I do. I do."

He eased toward me.

I lifted the shotgun.

"Now, boy," he said.  "You don't want to shoot me." "Yes sir.  I do."

"It ain't something I can help.  Listen here.  I'll let her go, and
we'll just forget about this business.  Time you get home, I'll be out
of here.  I got a little boat hid out, and I can take it downriver to
where I can catch a train.  I'm good at that.  I can be gone before you
know it.  I come out here in a truck with my boat, but I'll leave the
truck for you.  You're getting' old enough for a truck.  You should have
a truck.  I'll leave it for you.  It's up above Mose's shack."

"You're wiltin'," I said.

His pee-dink had gone limp.

Cecil looked down.  "So I am."

He pushed himself inside his pants and buttoned up as he talked.  "Look
here.  I wasn't gonna hurt her.  Just feel her some.

Jne R. Lansdnle

I was just gonna get my finger wet.  A little smell.  I'll and
everything will be all right."

"You'll just go down the river and do it again," I said. you come down
the river to us and did it here.  You ain't' stop, are you?"

"There's nothing to say about it, Harry.  It gets out of sometime."

"You killed those people, Cecil.  I trusted you.  My trusted you.  We
all trusted you."

"Nothing I can say, Harry."

"Mrs.  Canerton.  I thought you liked her."

"I do.  I did.  I like Tom.  I like them, and I try to leave alone. 
The ones that matter.  I went for the prostitutes. that would hold me. 
But I didn't want them.  I wanted thing.."  fresher.  Louise, she was
so nice.

"I didn't mean to kill Louise.  I wanted her, and she want me.  She
didn't want to be tied.  I swear, I wasn't hurt her.  But she didn't
want me.  We got to arguing, then that chain and coin around her neck,
and I thought of that little doctor having some of that, and she was
mine, grabbed at her throat, at his damn coin, and her hand got tangled
in the chain, and I had the cane knife."

He pointed at it where it stuck up in the ground Tom.  It was a
wicked-looking thing, and the firelight ened its edge and made it
appear to be coated in blood.  '

"I had it," he said, "and I swung it.  Cut off her Damnedest thing.  We
was on the edge of the river.  I told wanted to show her something',
see.  That got her down And so we were on the edge, and"--he laughed
damn hand, it popped right off and into the river.  Can you inc
that..."

"I know the Goat Man found it."

"Goat Man?"

"You're the real Goat Man.  You're Miss Maggie's Travelin' Man."

"You're not making any sense, boy."

I wanted him away from the cane knife.  "Move on around to the side
there," I said.

Cecil slipped to my left, and I went to the right.  We were kind of
circling each other.  I got over close to Tom and I squat ted down by
her, still pointing the shotgun at Cecil.

"I could be gone for good," Cecil said.  "All you got to do is let me
go."

I reached out with one hand, got hold of the knot on the bandanna and
pulled it loose.  Tom said, "Shoot him!  Shoot him! He stuck his
fingers in me.  Shoot him!  He took me out of the window and stuck his
fingers in me."

"Hush, Tom," I said.  "Take it easy."

"This hurts.  Cut me loose... Give me the gun and I'll shoot him."

"All the time you were bringin' those women here to kill, weren't you?"
 I said.

"It's a perfect place.  Already made by hoboes.  Once I decide on a
woman, well, I can easily handle a woman.  I always had my boat ready,
and you can get almost anywhere you need to go by river.  The tracks
aren't far from here.  Plenty of trains run.  It's easy to get around. 
I used my truck to bring the boat down."

"You told where Mose was?  You told Mr.  Nation."

"Your Daddy gave me a lead.  And Smoote, that idiot, who do you think
cuts his hair7 He was all worked up about that colored man in his barn,
and he got to talkin', and I didn't mean to do anything with it, but
hell, lots of people knew about it 'cause of his big mouth, and it was
just a matter of time.  All I had to do was let it slip to couple folks
I figured wore the hoods."

"But why."?"

"He took the blame, and I'd quit.  I really wanted know.  I wanted to
marry Louise, settle down, cut hair, your Daddy.  Maybe even have some
kids.  But I Han'y.  I tried, but I couldn't do it.  I thought I had
it

Louise took a shine to that boy doctor.  It all snapped."  i "Just go
on and shoot him," Tom said.

I squatted, got hold of the cane knife, ran it a that held Tom with my
left hand and kept the shotgun to me with the right hand.

"Sometimes friends make you mad, don't they? wrong things.  But they
don't mean to.  I didn't couldn't help myself."  .

"We ain't talkin' about stealin' a piece of

You're worse than the critters out there with the

'cause you ain't as good as them.  They can't help

"I tell you, neither can I. You don't know what I

war.  It was horrible."

"You was the one kinin' them Germans way you told ] about, wasn't
you?"

"Your Daddy told you about that, huh?  Yes.  It was i was a relief. 
Pretty soon, I wasn't scared anymore.  When home, I was always scared. 
My Mama, she liked me. me a lot.  And she liked to tie me up like her
Daddy when he had her.  I learned that from her.  The tying. didn't
like being tied.  She did.  I liked the tying.  We were a team till I
overdid it.  That was in Arkansas.  I went the war then, and I learned
to kill more.  To enjoy it.  And

I came back... Well, I just naturally found it burned off sion.  I'm
tellin' you, Harry.  I can't help it.  I tried to keep: people that
didn't matter."

"Like anyone matters to you," I said, sawing without success at the
ropes.

"You're gonna cut me, Harry," Tom said.

The fire crackled, bled red colors across Cecil's face.  S. of the rain
leaked in through the thick wad of briars and vines and limbs overhead,
hit the fire, made it hiss.

Cecil said, "You're like your Daddy, ain't you?  Serf-righteous."
"Reckon so."

"My Daddy'll whip your ass," Tom said.

The, cane knife was sharp, but just too hard to handle, and Tom was
starting to cuss and going on about letting her loose and giving her
the shotgun.  I finally tossed the cane knife down,

got my pocketknife out and opened it with my teeth.

Cecil eased toward me.

"Don't come no closer, Cecil.  I'll shoot your legs out from under
you."

"Shoot his pee-pee off!"  Tom yelled.

The pocketknife was easier for me to handle.  I finally got the ropes
loose and Tom sat up rubbing her wrists.

"It's all right now, Tom."

"It will be when we shoot his pee-pee off."

I stood up, raised the gun, and Cecil flinched.  But I couldn't cut him
down.  I wasn't raised to kill a human being.  I couldn't even shoot a
squirrel or catch a fish if I thought I wasn't gonna eat it, and I damn
sure wasn't gonna eat Cecil.

Just wasn't in me to shoot a fella in cold blood.  He needed it, no
doubt, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to do
it.  I figured if I blew his knee off to cripple him till I could get
Daddy, he'd end up bleeding out slow, and dying anyway  The idea of
letting buckshot fly into human flesh over whelmed me, made me ill, and
took my common sense away.

I didn't know what to do with him.  I decided I had no choice but to
let him go, tell Daddy, and have him try and hunt him down.  If I went
to tie him up, I was certain he'd turn theta bles, and I was afraid if
I tried to take him back at the point of a gun, he'd outdo me
somehow.

Tom was pulling on her clothes when I said, "You'll get yours
eventually."

J6e B. Ltnsdale

"Now you're talkin', boy."

"You stay over yonder, we're goin' out."

He held up his hands.  "Now you're using some sense ii Tom said, "You
can't shoot him, I can." "Go on, Tom."

She didn't like it, but she turned down the tunnel and he out.  Cecil
said, "Remember, boy.  We had some good tim

"You ain't never done nothing with me but cut my you didn't know how to
cut a boy's hair anyway."  I turned i went out by the tunnel.  "And I
ought to blow one of your off for what you done to Toby."

"He hurt Toby?"  Tom said.  "Gimme that gun."

She made as if to grab it, and in the same moment stepped forward.  I
pushed Tom aside and brought the shot| up

"I thought you was wantin' to go your own way." He smiled.  "I am,
Harry.  You can't fault a fella for "[ can," I said.  "Tom.  Go!"

We hustled through the tunnel, and I listened for lowing, looking back
now and then, but I didn't hear nor any sign of him.

We come out of the tunnel and went past the tree where i first body had
been found, and down to where I'd pulledi! boat on shore.  I figured if
we went through the woods he mi get us, but if we took the boat
downriver it would be hard him to track us, if that was his notion.

I was hoping it wasn't.

When we got down to the river, the boat, which I hat been able to pull
up completely on shore, had been washed the river by the rain-dappled
current.  I could see it in thetance, flowing away at a rapid pace.

"Damn," I said.

"Was that Mose's boat?"  Tom asked.

"We got to go by the bank, to the Swinging Bridge."

"It's a long ways," I heard Cecil say.

I spun around, and there he was up on the higher bank next to the tree
where me and Tom had found the body.  He was just a big shadow next to
the tree, and I thought of the devil come up from the ground, all dark
and evil and full of bluff.  Maybe Cecil wasn't the Travelin' Man after
all, but in fact was Beelzebub himself, one Miss Maggie told me
about.

Cecil stepped out from behind the tree, and the moonlight caught the
blade of the cane knife, made me think of a story I had read once about
Death and his scythe.

"You got a long ways to go, children.  A long ways."

I pointed the shotgun at him and he slipped behind the tree out of
sight, said, "A long ways."

I knew then I should have killed him.  Or at least taken the cane
knife.  Now, without the boat, he could follow alongside us, backup in
the woods there, and we couldn't even see him.

Me and Tom started moving brisk-like along the bank, and we could hear
Cecil moving through the woods on the higher bank above us, and finally
we didn't hear him anymore.  It was the same as that night when we
heard the sounds near and in the tunnel.  I figured it had been him,
maybe come down to see his handiwork at the tree there, liking it
perhaps, wanting it to be seen by someone.  Maybe we had come down
right after he finished doing it.  He had been stalking us, or Tom
maybe.  Could be he had wanted Tom all along.

We walked fast and Tom was cussing most of the time, talk inga bout
what Cecil had done with his fingers.  The whole thing was making me
sick.

"Just shut up, Tom.  Shut up."

She started crying.  I stopped and got down on one knee, let the
shotgun lay against me as I reached out with both hands and took hold
of her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Tom, really.  I'm scared too.  We got to keep our selves
together, you hear me?"

Joe R. tans dale

"I hear you," she said.

"We got to stay the course here.  I got a gun.  He don may have already
given up."

"He ain't give up, and you know it."

"We got to keep moving."

Tom nodded, and we started out again.  Pretty soon dark shadow of the
Swinging Bridge was visible river, and the wind was high, and the
bridge thrashed forth and creaked and groaned like rusty hinges.

"We could go on down a ways, Tom, but I think we cross by the bridge
here.  It's quicker, and we can be sooner."

"I'm scared, Harry."

"So am I. Can you do it?"

Tom sucked in her top lip and nodded.  "I can." We climbed up the bank
where the bridge began and down it.  It swung back and forth.  White
foam rose dark water below, rolled away and crashed over the little
into the broader, deeper, slower part of the river, but rainy, windy
night, even that flowed fasL

The woods seemed quiet, yet full of something I

put a name to.  Now and again, in spite of the rain, the would split
and the moon would shine down on us.  The was growing stronger, and I
knew before long there would only clouds and lots of rain and little to
no moonlight. would only make matters worse.

Like that other time, I decided to cross first, so if a gave out Tom
would know.  When I stepped on the bridge, wind and my weight made it
swing wide, and I darn into the water.  When I reached out to grab the
cables, of the shotgun.  It went into the water, making no sound the
roar of the water.

"You lost it, Harry," Tom yelled from the bank. "Come on, just hang on
to the cables."

Tom stepped onto the bridge.  It swung violently, nearly tipped
again.

"We got to walk light," I said, "and kind of together.  When I take a
step, you take one.  But if a board goes, or I go, you'll see in
time."

"If you fall, what do I do?"

"You got to go on across, Tom."

We continued, having gotten the movement right, because we weren't
wobbling as badly as before.  Still, it was slow work, and I began to
suspect we might have been better off traveling down the bank until we
could cross in the shallows.  But that route was dark, the trees grew
close to the water, and it would have been easy for Cecil to have
snatched us.

But now, on this bridge, going slowly, the wind and rain blowing, I
found myself reconsidering.  But, of course, there was no going back. 
We had the same distance to go to cross that we did going back.  And I
no longer had the shotgun.

I turned, looked down the length of the bridge, past Tom.  I didn't see
anyone tryin' to follow.

It was slow going, but it wasn't long before we were six feet from the
other side.  I began to breathe again.  Then I realized after we
crossed the bridge we still had a ways to go till we got to the wide
trail, then the road.  But there wasn't any road would stop Cecil or
anyone else.  It was just a road.  If we got that far, we still had
more distance to travel, and Cecil would know where we were going, and
Mama and Daddy might not even be home yet.  As for Grandma, I didn't
know if she had gone back to the house, in search of Mama and Daddy, or
driven off for help.  For that matter, she could still be lying where I
had left her.

I thought if we got to the road, I might try and fool Cecil by going
the other way.  The drawback was it was a longer distance in that
direction to anyone's house, and if Cecil figured what we were doin',
we could be in worse trouble.  I decided the only thing to do was to
head straight home and tious.

While all this was on my mind, and we were about the opposite bank, a
chunk of the bank moved and the ows that clustered around it moved too.
Cecil, looking had crawled through a working cotton gin, stepped
holding the cane knife.

The look on his face said it all.  He had us.  I tossed a over my
shoulder at Tom.  The look she gave me back that expected some kind of
answer.

I thought maybe we could turn back, but before make the decision, I
glanced at Cecil, saw him stick the knife in the dirt beside him. 
Staying on solid ground, hold of both sides of the cables that held the
Swinging said, "I beat you across, boy.  Hurried down and crossed
shallows, like you should have done.  Then I just waited. you and
little Tom, you're gonna have to take a want it this way, but that's
how it is.  You see that, All I wanted was Tom.  You give her to me
right now, cross to this side, you can go.  By the time you get and
her, we'll be on our way, and I'll keep goin' from That's all the deal
I can offer, Harry."

"You ain't got your dough done in the middle," I Cecil clenched the
cables hard and shook them.  The swung out from under me and I found my
feet hanging midair.  Only my arms wrapped around one of the supporting
me.

I jerked a look at Tom.  She had fallen and was one of the board steps.
As she clutched it, I could see rotten wood splintering, throwing
splinters into the Tom's feet swung out into nothingness.  The board
creaked. groaned.  The bridge sighed in the wind and the rusty old i
bles screeched like a rat being slowly crushed to death boot heel.

Cecil shook the cables again.  I hung tight, my feet swinging way out. 
I tried to pull up and get my feet back on the slats, but the bridge
had tilted, and every time I tugged, it merely leaned with me, the
cables being flexible, shaken, and wind-driven.

The board Tom clung to didn't give, just shed more wood;

she was holding nothing more than a thin fragment bolted to the lower
cables on either side.

I glanced toward Cecil, saw another shape lurch out of the shadows; a
huge one, with what looked like horns on its head. Mose's boy, Telly.

Telly grabbed Cecil around the neck and jerked him back. Cecil spun
loose, hit him in the stomach.  They grappled for a moment, holding
each other's biceps, pushing and pulling.

Cecil got loose, losing some of his shirtsleeve in the process.

He snatched up the cane knife, slashed it across Telly's chest. Telly
let out with a wail, leaped against Cecil and the both of them went
flying onto the bridge.

When they hit, boards splintered, and the bridge swung violently 
There was a snapping sound, followed by a hiss as one of the cables
broke in two, whipped out and away from us like a lash, then dropped
into the water.

Cecil and Telly plummeted past us into the Sabine.  Tom dangled for a
moment from the bridge slat, then it cracked, but before it could break
all the way and drop her, the remaining cable snapped, and we tumbled
into the fast-rushing water after them.

I went deep, surfaced in choking foam, bumped into Tom. She bellowed
and I grabbed her shirt collar.  The water churned us under again.  I
struggled to bring us up, all the while clinging to Tom's collar.  When
I broke the surface of the water, I

saw Cecil and Telly in a clench, riding the blast of the over the
little falls, shooting out into deeper, calmer

Then we were part of the falls, and over we went, water covered us, and
I clung hard to Tom's shirt as if I blacked out for a moment, then we
rose up and to as the night air hit me.  - i

I tightened my grip on Tom, started trying to swim shore.  It was hard
in our wet clothes, our clinging as we were, and that damn current.

Tom wasn't helping herself a bit.  She had gone ring the water pull
her.  I thought several times I wasn't to make it, or that, worse, I
would let go of Tom to self, but I clung to her until my fingers lost
feeling.

Eventually my feet were touching sand and gravel.  I onto shore, Tom in
tow.  I collapsed on my knees.  Tom over and puked.

I fell forward and rolled on my back and gasped draughts of air.  My
head was spinning.  Absently, I had quit raining.

I raised my head, glanced out at the water.  The moon, to be shed of
rain clouds, cast a glow on the Sabine like starting to shine on a hot
skillet.  I could see Cecil and i gripped together, a hand flying up
now and then to strike, I could see something else all around them,
something that up in a dozen silvery knobs that gleamed in the moonli

Cecil and Telly had washed into that school of water ca sins or another
just like them.  Had stirred them up. was like bullwhips flying from
the water, lashing the them time after time.

They washed around a muddy bend in the river stru with each other,
accompanied by the lashing snakes, and before they had completely gone
from sight the clouds again and the moon went away and in the shadows
of the overhanging the river, they were lost from sight.

31!

When I was able to stand, I realized I had lost a shoe.  I got hold of
Tom, pulled her farther up the bank.  We lay there for a moment, still
recovering.

Finally we felt strong enough to move, and we staggered toward the gap
in the trees that led to the road.  My bare foot found every sticker in
existence.

When we got to the Preacher's Road, I stopped, sat down, and picked the
stickers out of my foot as best I could.  I took off my other shoe, and
we started walking toward home.  The rain came in earnest now, not
letting up at all.  No more moon light, just night and rain so dark it
was hard to stay on the muddy road.

It took us a long time, but as we neared home, we heard Mama in the
yard, calling our names.

When she saw us she let out a roar of relief, ran toward us with her
hair wet in her face, her nightgown clinging to her like a satin
glove.

When we arrived that night, Daddy was off in the woods looking for us,
and Grandma was in bed, ill from excitement. Toby, who I thought had
died, was in the house, lying on a makeshift pallet Mama had made for
him.  She had also bandaged his head.  She called him a hero.  When he
saw us, his poor pathetic body managed to make his tail work, and he
beat it a few times to let us know he was glad to see us.

Near dawn, wet and tired, Daddy arrived, found us sitting at the table
telling Mama and Grandma all about it.  When he saw us, and we came to
him, he dropped to his knees, took us both in his arms and began to
cry.

Next morning they found Cecil on a sandbar.  He was up and swollen from
water and snake bites.  His neck was ken, Daddy said.  Telly had taken
care of him before the bites.

Caught up in some roots next to the bank, his arms and through them,
his feet wound up in vines, was Telly. cane knife wound had torn open
his chest and side.  Daddy that sad old straw hat was still on his
head; it had gotten twisted up in his hair, and that the part that
looked horns had washed down and was covering his eyes.

I wondered what had gotten into Telly, the Goat Man. had led me out
there to save Tom, but he hadn't wanted part of stopping Cecil.  Maybe
he was afraid.  But when we on the bridge; and Cecil was getting the
best of us, he had for him.

Had it been because he wanted to help us, or was he there already and
frightened?  I'll never know.  I thought of Telly living out there in
the woods all that time, only his knowing he was there, and keeping it
secret just so folks leave him alone, not take advantage of him because
he addle-headed.

In the end, I remember mostly just lying in bed in what become
Grandma's room, our old room, for two days after, in gall the wounds in
my foot from stickers and such, about what had almost happened to Tom,
trying to get strength back.

Mama stayed by our side for the next two days, leaving only long enough
to make soup.  Daddy sat up with us at ni When I awoke, frightened,
thinking I was still on the Swin Bridge, he would be there, and he
would smile and put out hand and touch my head, and I would lie back
and sleep

During the day he took a side of the barn down and used the planks to
close in the sleeping porch.  He said he'd never feel safe with anyone
sleeping out there again.  I missed the old porch, but it was best he
did what he did.  I could have never lain out there again, closed my
eyes for a good night's sleep.

It was nearly two years later before he replaced the boards he had
taken from the barn.

Over a period of years, picking up a word here and there, we would
learn that there had been more murders like those in our area, all the
way down from Arkansas and over into Oklahoma and some of North Texas.
Back then no one pinned those on one murderer.  The law just didn't
think like that in them days.  The true nature of serial killers was
unknown.

It's all done now, those long-ago events of the nineteen thirties.

Epilague :

little side note.  About six months after the conclus these events; a
hunter, a man my Daddy knew named J St.  John, discovered a strange
thing.  Interestingly cno was near where Red's car had been abandoned,
but

/

way you could have found what he found was if you your flashlight while
out coon hunting, climbed down bank where it had been dropped, and
discovered there gap in a clutch of trees, and if you looked up just
could see it.

It was what looked like a tar baby; a scarecrow with tar hanging from a
rope fastened to a limb over the.

Next day he told Daddy about it, and Daddy there.  I didn't get all the
facts then, but over the years they pieced together.  !i

A body covered thick in pitch, the eyes open, but.

course, just sockets filled with insects, had a rope its tar-covered
neck, and the other end was fastened limb.  Daddy said he could see
that the man had thrown thel over the limb, fastened it around his
neck, and leaped riverbank.  He said he wondered what it was like for
someone to decide such a thing, to do it in that manner.

I think Daddy, during his darkest hours, might have considered death
himself, but doing it like that, so lonely and so strange

There were two huge barrels of tar there, and they were on what had
once been a fire, but was now nothing more than washed gray ash.  The
cans were blackened and the lids were off, and there was a flat board
covered with the stuff.

Daddy determined that the man had heated the tar and then,
deliberately, plastered the scalding hot stuff to himself, put the rope
around his neck, and swung out over the river.

Having come to trust him, Daddy took the body to Doc Tinn, who did his
best to clean it up.  A large part of the flesh had been preserved by
the tar so that when it was taken off with paint remover and such, it
was easy to see that one arm was self-tattooed with a list of women's
names.  I never asked Daddy if Mama's name was actually listed there,
but I had my suspicions.

Across the chest was a new crude tattoo that read, NIGGER. Daddy put it
together this way.  Red loved Miss Maggie like a mother, but when he
discovered she was his mother, he lost his bearings, his position in
life.  He was no longer a good white man looking after a poor colored
woman, he was colored himself.  He then tried to save Mose, his father,
and when he couldn't, and when he decided his life had been duped, he
went to Miss Maggie. Maybe he thought she would say it was all a joke,
or something of that nature.  It's impossible to know.  Or maybe Red
decided to get rid of the one person who he knew knew for sure he
wasn't white.

Again, we'll never know.  But the guilt of who he was, and what he had
done, caused him to torture himself with a crude tattoo cut into his
chest, hot tar, and a slow choking death.

Maybe the Klan done it.  Having discovered Red was and that he had an
arm tattooed with the names of near a white women.  Or maybe it was
because they knew tried to save Mose. i:

No way to know for sure.  Life's like that.  It isn't of Grandma's
murder mysteries.  Everything doesn't get up neatly.

Like that damn picture colored with pencil in Mos shack.

What was that about?

Could Mose have done that?

Since he didn't have a picture of his boy, had he made to go with his
long-lost wife?  Just colored in one to remind'l he had a son?

Or had Cecil put it there?

He liked to put those little rolled-up pieces of the bodies, hang up
those pictures out of the Sears and buck, for whatever reason.  He had
left them with his Did he in some way consider Mose a victim of his; a
man ished for his crime?  He hadn't had a chance to put the on the
body, so had he placed it in the cabin?

And what was on those other pieces of paper?

women?  Did he blame those pictures for what they made do?  Lust and
murder?

For a time, here in the home, before he stroked out, th was a retired
psychiatrist, and I told him my story of that and asked him about those
pieces of paper.  He had no set swer, but thought they might even have
been clippings abo. women from the papers.  Maybe crimes that had to
do,.  wi women.

He said it could be a lot of things, but none of those thin were really
an answer.

I didn't know then what it was about.  And I don't have better idea
now.

There's not much left to tell.  Just some general business.  I

was a hero for a while, then things settled down and we went to doing
what everyone else was doing.

They finally got a schoolteacher, and before long they had several and
we were attending regular.  I made it all the way to the tenth grade. 
Tom finished the whole thing up, and even went on to college some years
later.

But after that night in the bottoms, Grandma never fully recovered. It
was like the anxiety took it out of her, made her old and wrecked her
heart.  She saw Mr.  Groon a bit, but that didn't take.  She got sick,
stayed in bed for a year or so, then one morning she just didn't wake
up.

We were living then in a new house on five acres Daddy bought in town. 
There was already a small cemetery back there, a family plot for some
family long gone and forgotten, though those who had owned the house
and the land had kept it up out of respect.  We did the same.  Grandma
was buried back there under a huge oak tree that still grows, or did
when I was there some ten years ago, back when I could get around.  The
grave has broken down and blended with the land.  That's exactly what
Grandma wanted, to be consumed by and dumped all over East Texas by
earthworms.

Toby's buried somewhere out there as well.

After the events I've told you about, Toby lived another five years. 
He had run of the new place, inside and out.  One morning Daddy let him
out for his morning constitutional.  He limped down the steps and out
of sight.  By nightfall he hadn't returned. Next morning Mama found his
body not far from where Grandma was buried.

As for our old place, well, Daddy sold it.  He just couldn't crop it
anymore, and he wanted to be closer to the barbershop. Mose's grave got
lost among trees and brambles, and now there's a parking lot and
savings and loan built over it.  It's like he never existed.

Daddy quit being constable.  He wasn't no good at way.  He went to
full-time hair cutting, and gradually better and he did well until the
cancer.  Fortunately, came, he went fast.  He was sixty-two years old.
Daddy were calling her, followed close behind.

Tom was killed by a drunk driver in nineteen grew into a woman lovely
as our mother, made a teacher.  Her husband was a jackass.  He ran off
when pregnant, and was seldom heard of again.

Tom was driving my worthless nephew into Houston i a doctor about
shaking his drug habit when it a head-on collision.  Tom died
instantly.:i

My nephew, named Jacob after my father, got a his head, recovered, and
lived long enough to eral women, poison the lives of numerous people
with and alcohol problems, and finally, almost mercifully, life with a
drug overdose in nineteen seventy-five.

Doc Tinn and his wife moved off to Houston the sixties.  We really
didn't have much association with other.  I never saw or heard from
them again.

Pappy Treesome's boy Root was castrated and burned Klan in nineteen
thirty-nine.  When Pappy died and came an invalid from a stroke, Root
was on his own turned out he wasn't so harmless.  He committed a half
rapes on colored girls, for which not a thing was done, it determined
by white and black alike they had it comin'. sure why they had it
comin', other than they were female he was male and he wanted to
satisfy himself.

Finally Root made a bigger mistake in the eyes of society than the rape
of colored girls.  I don't know whe happened, or the circumstances
around it, but he exposed self to a white woman, and he was done in. 
Daddy once he estimated Root had the mind of a five-year-old.

Old Man Nation lived a drunken life and made t throughout it.  It
didn't catch up with him, though.  He lived until he was eighty or more
and died in his sleep.

His wife, long run off, was never replaced, and the two boys... Well, I
don't exactly know what came of them.  They moved off.  I heard tell
that one of them died in a fishing accident but I don't know that's
the truth, and if it is, I don't know which one of them it was.

Doc Stephenson, I have no memory of him going.  Just one day he wasn't
there, and Dr.  Taylor was.  When I was twenty I became marshal of
Marvel Creek.  Its first.  Before that there had just been a constable
for the area, but the place, though never big, had grown and felt it
needed its own personal law.

When World War Two started up I enlisted, but they wouldn't take me. 
Years earlier, Sally Redback, stung by a hornet one day while I was
plowing her, had kicked back inter ror, catching me on the side of the
cheek, causing damage to my right eye.  I recovered with only a small
scar, but it affected my vision.  It was presumed I wouldn't be able to
shoot a rifle. I tried to explain I could shoot left-handed, but at
that point in time they weren't scrambling for soldiers, so I ended up
staying home.

In the course of my marshaling duties, I met a lovely young Woman named
Eleanor PiggleMno joke.  She ended up in Marvel Creek after her folks
arrived from California.  They had fled Dust Bowl from Oklahoma and had
come to East Texas, found no Promised Land in California.

Doc

Taylor delivered both our children, and pronounced dead eleven years
ago.  Her big sweet heart just gave

James, my first boy, grew up to fight in Vietnam.  He died William, who
was a little younger, went to law school does well.  He helps pay for a
lot of my care; he moved to his home in Houston, then when I decided I
was too of a burden, he helped me find a rest home to finish off

Jan R, Lansdsle my days.  He didn't like the idea, but to tell the
truth I it.

The family comes to see me twice a week, and want.  His wife, Coreen,
is like a daughter to me, and my children are wonderful.

But time is wearing.  It takes away the spirit.  And love my son, his
wife, and my grandchildren, I have no to lie here day after day with
this tube in my shank, mashed peas and corn, and some awful thing that
will meat, all to be hand fed to me by a beautiful nurse who me of my
long dead wife.

So now I close my eyes with my memories of those The bad things that
happened aren't nearly as memorable good.  When I sleep I find myself
in our little house next woods and the Sabine River.  I can hear the
crickets and and the moon is bright and the night is cool.  I'm young
and full of piss and vinegar.

Each time I visit now, close my eyes to go there, when I awake I will
no longer be of this world, but one Mama and Daddy, Tom and Grandma,
perhaps even the Goat Man, and of course good old Toby, will be for
me.

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