Kings Of The Earth Part 4

DeAlton.

I SEE YOU BOYS SEE YOU BOYS are doing a little remodeling. are doing a little remodeling.

No, that's good. I like it. It kind of opens the place up, don't you think? A person needs some room. A little elbow room. A little room to stretch out, make himself comfortable.

Hey, thanks. I don't mind if I do. Your sister won't ever bake for us at home. Not for the old home team. No, sir. Not anymore. She used to when we were first married but I guess she kind of ran out of gas for that sort of thing.

Isn't that right, Donna? Isn't that right?

Now don't bother with that, honey. Quit that. There's no cleaning that up. You try every time and it's no use. Besides, there's all this plaster dust everywhere. But like I said, honey, isn't that right? About when we were first married?

She used to bake just all the time, Creed. All the time, but not anymore. The only way to get a pie or a plate of cookies out of this woman is to come out to the farm. Come on out to the farm with me Come on out to the farm with me, she says, and I'll bake everybody an apple pie and I'll bake everybody an apple pie. That's what she says. And I have to confess I'm a sucker for it. Not that I wouldn't come out anyway. You know.

Now that's that's a delicious cookie right there, honey. Oatmeal raisin? Are there walnuts in there too? a delicious cookie right there, honey. Oatmeal raisin? Are there walnuts in there too?

Nice. I thought so.

To tell you the truth, I never knew why you boys needed the two rooms here to begin with. It was just the usual, I figure. I mean it was just the way folks ordinarily set things up. A bedroom here, a living room there, what have you. The usual. But now you can lie in bed and watch TV all the way over there by the door. That's what I call luxury. That's what I call living. I guess you could move the set over here by the bed if you wanted to, but that would make things kind of cramped.

Oh. I see. Well. If the outlet doesn't work anymore then you don't have much choice in the matter. So yeah. This is what I'd call an innovative solution to the problem. Good thinking. A big room like this with the bed and the kitchen table and the fridge and the TV all at once? That's living. Man oh man.

1985.

Tom.

HE KEPT A LITTLE DOPE in the car, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. It was in a Baggie, right there in the glove box where any cop would be sure to look right off. He had put the first of it there the summer before, kind of by accident on account of he'd been in a hurry and he wasn't thinking, and then once the glove box was contaminated and all he figured that he might as well just keep it up. Maybe if he got stopped and they looked in the glove box and found that much they'd quit, instead of just finding a few traces and deciding to search the whole d.a.m.n car. in the car, even though he knew it was probably a bad idea. It was in a Baggie, right there in the glove box where any cop would be sure to look right off. He had put the first of it there the summer before, kind of by accident on account of he'd been in a hurry and he wasn't thinking, and then once the glove box was contaminated and all he figured that he might as well just keep it up. Maybe if he got stopped and they looked in the glove box and found that much they'd quit, instead of just finding a few traces and deciding to search the whole d.a.m.n car.

He stopped where his uncles' dirt lane met the pavement and rolled himself a joint and lit it. Just a skinny one. Some of the gra.s.s stuck to the red spiral of the cigarette lighter and he wondered if a cop would look there too if one stopped him. At least he wasn't drinking. He knew guys who didn't just drink and then drive but actually did both at the same time, guys from the construction site and guys from the community college, and it never failed to freak him out. Fazio, the foreman on the job, showed up every morning in his big red pickup with his big red forearm hanging over the doorsill and a can of Genesee standing right there in his big red hand, the can dressed in a little foam jacket to keep it cold. The foam jacket was Day-Glo orange and it had VERNON D DOWNS printed on the side of it over and over. They gave them out at the track on week-nights, to drum up business. Fazio thought it made the beer can look like it might be a c.o.ke. printed on the side of it over and over. They gave them out at the track on week-nights, to drum up business. Fazio thought it made the beer can look like it might be a c.o.ke.

He turned north onto the paved road and hit the gas but the old VW didn't do much. The road was nothing but hills all the way to Ca.s.sius and beyond. The VW had to work hard. The sun was down by the time he got to the beach. He had a little apartment that he rented on the second floor over a body and fender shop on the edge of town, just past the last of the bars. The body shop was closed at night and he was working days so it didn't matter how much racket they made, banging on fenders or whatever. The whole apartment stank, though. That penetrating plastic smell of solvent got into everything. It made it hard to breathe, and now and then he worried that just living here might be causing him some sort of long-term harm. Plus he was afraid that if he lit a joint or a cigarette the whole place might go up one of these days. On the other hand, that same fear was helping him cut down on the smoking. So you took the good with the bad.

He parked the VW in the body and fender lot and sized up a couple of new wrecks on either side of it but he didn't go straight into the apartment. Instead he walked down the main drag toward the water. The rides were going full blast, with kids screaming and carnival music blaring and lights shooting out every which way. His parents had never taken him there when he was growing up and he didn't have much interest in any of it now, but he stopped and watched the carousel go around for a few minutes. He smoked a cigarette and watched the little kids going up and down on the horses. The horses made him think of the old horse on his uncles' farm, long dead.

He crushed out his cigarette on the sidewalk and went on past the Clam Shack and Harpoon Gary's without giving either one of them much thought. Growing up around here, he never saw the names of these places as either ironic or aspirational. He never much saw them at all. The places and their battered signs were just what they were. Fixtures. Both Gary's and the Shack had big decks that looked out in the general direction of the water, and both of the decks were crowded with summer people and people who'd come over for supper from Ca.s.sius and Verona and maybe as far away as Rome, the summer people wearing beach clothes and the locals still dressed for work. The beach looked westward across the lake, so these places on the water did a pretty good business around sunset. At least in the summer. Come winter they'd be shut.

He kept walking until he got to the Woodshed, which was on the other side of the street, just across the bridge, above where Fish Creek emptied into the lake. Beyond it were a couple of campgrounds and some empty docks but that was pretty much it. Kids hollering on a swing set somewhere in the dark, in compet.i.tion with the screaming from the rides back in the direction he'd come from. Neon beer signs buzzed in the windows. A cardboard sign on the door advertised LADIES' NIGHT LADIES' NIGHT, but there weren't any ladies around when he walked in. Then again it was early.

Preston.

MARGARET AND I' I'D BEEN to the movies and we came home late. The night was plenty clear, I remember. There was a big wide moon and a lot of stars. You might be surprised at how few stars you can see in town, compared to what you see out here. Even though Ca.s.sius isn't a big city it's big enough that the stars have to compete with street lamps and headlights and whatnot. It's darker out here in the country and the sky seems to light things up more. Anyhow we pulled up and something caught my eye over at the Proctor place. to the movies and we came home late. The night was plenty clear, I remember. There was a big wide moon and a lot of stars. You might be surprised at how few stars you can see in town, compared to what you see out here. Even though Ca.s.sius isn't a big city it's big enough that the stars have to compete with street lamps and headlights and whatnot. It's darker out here in the country and the sky seems to light things up more. Anyhow we pulled up and something caught my eye over at the Proctor place.

Creed was in the backyard taking in laundry. Sheets, it looked like. I pulled up by the barn and stopped and put it in park and got out. Margaret stayed. Those boys didn't keep a wash line up, so he'd strung rope in between the barn door and the rearview mirror of the school bus. Not the busted one on the pa.s.senger side, but the other. The one on the pa.s.senger side tore off the day it got here and the other one broke not long after that. I think the conveyor picked up a rock and maybe flung it somehow. It was either that or I don't know what. You've got to watch out around a farm. That's the lesson. The gla.s.s is still all over. Regardless I spied him taking in sheets and that wasn't exactly the usual thing, never mind in the middle of the night, so I stopped and went over to ask him what the holiday was. Those boys never were much for laundry.

He said his brother'd been having trouble holding his water. I thought he meant Audie. That's what a person would think and I told him so. He said no, it was Vernon. He'd been having the trouble for a while and they were just now getting around to washing out the sheets. They'd got to the point where they couldn't stand it anymore, and they had to wash them out because they didn't have money to buy new-not so much as once, to tell the truth, and definitely not on a regular basis if Vernon was going to keep at it. Coveralls they could get a year's use out of and buy more from Philipson's in Ca.s.sius and then burn the old pair, but not sheets. Not if Vernon was going to have that kind of trouble every night. Creed stood there by the school bus with a look on his face I could see in the dark. Like a man sizing up something he doesn't much like the appearance of. The start of something or maybe the end of it.

Tom.

TOM WAS NEVER going to pa.s.s for tall, but the low ceiling in the Woodshed gave everybody who came in the door a kind of unconscious stoop and he wasn't any different. The front room held a long bar with n.o.body at it or even behind it, and a couple of bowling machines with polished wooden lanes that you lubricated by shaking out some kind of wax from a canister with holes in the lid. It looked like greasy yellow popcorn salt. Instead of b.a.l.l.s they used round metal pucks that weighed enough to do some damage. Tom had taken one of them in the eye late one night and he still had a swelling that was beginning to look like it would never go away. The yellow wax stung your eyes, too. He remembered that. He'd had to go in the men's room and bend over the sink and rinse it out, and then get some ice for the swelling. He never did find out who threw it. going to pa.s.s for tall, but the low ceiling in the Woodshed gave everybody who came in the door a kind of unconscious stoop and he wasn't any different. The front room held a long bar with n.o.body at it or even behind it, and a couple of bowling machines with polished wooden lanes that you lubricated by shaking out some kind of wax from a canister with holes in the lid. It looked like greasy yellow popcorn salt. Instead of b.a.l.l.s they used round metal pucks that weighed enough to do some damage. Tom had taken one of them in the eye late one night and he still had a swelling that was beginning to look like it would never go away. The yellow wax stung your eyes, too. He remembered that. He'd had to go in the men's room and bend over the sink and rinse it out, and then get some ice for the swelling. He never did find out who threw it.

The back room was a bunch of little tables cl.u.s.tered around a low stage covered in Astroturf. The Astroturf was melted in places from dropped cigarettes and it probably amounted to a huge fire hazard, but it was st.u.r.dy and it provided good footing no matter what got spilled on it. Sometimes they had a band but not tonight. Once upon a time they'd had strippers on the weekends, but now that was just a fond memory shared by a handful of old-timers, vets of the Second World War who'd come home and gone straight to the Woodshed with visions of Betty Grable in their heads. Every now and then one of the old dancers, a heavyset bottle blonde from somewhere up on Fish Creek, would stop in and get up on the little stage and shake what she still had just for old times' sake. There were always a few tips in it. Her knees were going fast, though, and conditions had reached the point where she was starting to need help getting up onto the Astroturf. Before long there wouldn't be anybody left who wanted to give her a hand, anybody left who even remembered those glory days.

REO Speedwagon was cranking from the jukebox and a few regulars were hunched over the tables, working at getting drunk. One of the guys called out to him, calling him Tommy Boy Tommy Boy, which he hated. It drove him back out into the front room. He settled on a stool and got out his smokes and lit one of them and pulled on it hard. He was pretty sure it made the buzz from the dope he'd smoked on the ride over rise up a little bit, and that was good, but on the other hand it might have been all in his head. He sat knocking his lighter on the bar and Sal came out from the back at the sound of it, thinking somebody out there was impatient.

"Oh. It's just you."

"Just me." Tom drew on the cigarette again. "That's right."

"You're early." He put a gla.s.s under the tap and pulled Tom's usual.

"Sometimes I like to get a head start."

"I can see that."

It was a while before the place filled up. A bunch of college kids on summer break were working the bowling machines. Most of them looked like regular kids out of Ca.s.sius High-home from wherever, doing factory work or construction for a couple of months-but two or three of them were all decked out with pressed jeans and those alligator shirts with the collars turned up and they looked like they might have come over from Syracuse or someplace just to see how the other half lived. Tom's natural inclination was to hate them for that, but he tamped it down. The bar itself was mostly regulars except for a couple of girls at the other end. One of them looked predatory and the other one looked dazed. He'd never seen either of them before, he didn't think. He drank his beer and watched everything. The jukebox ran through ZZ Top and Van Halen and w.a.n.g Chung. That awful "We Are the World" came on but somebody gave the machine a good kick and the needle skipped and the changer pulled up some Elton John instead. Tom didn't hear any complaints. A couple of men approached the girls and smiled at them and put a little money on the bar. They drank for a while but they all seemed kind of nervous with it except for the predatory girl, who was kind of dancing without getting up from her stool. Tom sat and drank and wished he'd gotten to them first. Watching them a little in the mirror. They were younger than the college kids and he was older all of a sudden. What a world. Time just went by no matter what a person did.

Around eleven Reed showed up. Reed was his last name. His first name was Karl but he never went by it. He'd been too cool to hang out with Tom in high school, but things were different now. Now he sold real estate in Ca.s.sius and Verona and sometimes over here at the beach, and even though he'd made some money he'd never figured out how to grow up. He'd peaked in high school-when he'd quarterbacked the football team and gotten the head cheerleader and all the usual what have you-but that was that and he was still stuck in it even though it was all over, even though it was half a dozen years ago and he was going to fat and losing his hair and coming to places like this to check out the women and score a little dope from Tom Poole, whom he'd never even condescended to greet in the hallowed halls of Ca.s.sius High.

Tom liked it. All those years Reed had had something he'd wanted-a lot of things he'd wanted, come to think of it-and now the shoe was on the other foot. "Hey, buddy," he said when Reed came in. The way a person says it who isn't your buddy and doesn't want to be. Just relishing the sound.

"Hey." Sal brought Reed a beer. There was an empty stool next to Tom's and he took it. Tom lit a cigarette and Reed looked at the pack and raised his eyebrows as if he'd never seen anything so terrible. "You still smoking those?" he said. "They'll kill you one of these days."

"Thanks for the input."

"I'm just saying." He leaned back in his stool and made himself comfortable, acting like he was still first-string on the varsity team or something. Like anybody still cared or even knew. Old habits.

"I hear you. And I'll tell you what. I'll quit smoking the minute you lay off the cheeseburgers."

Reed sucked it in a little and smiled. "It's the munchies, man. I got n.o.body to blame but my favorite dealer."

Which got the attention of the college kids over at the bowling machines.

"Sure," said Tom. "Everything's always my fault." He raised a finger and Sal brought him another beer. He waited until Sal was gone and then he lowered his voice a little. "I don't deal, anyway. There's dealing and then there's growing. Two completely different things."

Audie.

THE BED SMELLED LIKE HER. It was nice and cool after a hot day and it smelled like her and it smelled like the wind and it made me think about how she used to hang the sheets out before she went on ahead. It made me remember. I told Creed and he said if I wanted to lay down someplace that smelled that way every night then it was up to me to do the wash. This time though he did it and he took all the credit for it. I thought it was just as much Vernon's doing but I didn't say. Not the washing I mean but the need for the washing. Creed wasn't happy while he was at it and Vernon said he'd do it himself when he got done feeding the pigs if he was going to be so finicky about his bed linens but Creed didn't let him. He told him it couldn't wait. He told him it had to be done right then and he did it himself and then he stayed mad at Vernon.

Tom.

SOMEHOW THE GIRLS at the end of the bar got wind of things and shook off the two men who'd been buying them beer all night. They worked their way down to the end of the bar where Tom and Reed were sitting. The one still looked kind of dazed and the other one still looked kind of like she wanted to bite somebody, but the beer was starting to push them both toward a kind of woozy middle ground. They were beginning to look like anybody else. Tom asked could they buy them a couple of drinks and Reed laughed and said maybe they ought to card them first just to be on the safe side. You had to be nineteen. Ha ha ha. The way he said it gave Tom the creeps. Like Reed was some kind of dirty old man, which would make him a dirty old man too. The college kids were still working the bowling machines and the ferocious girl kept looking over at them. It made Tom kind of angry and a little bit sad at the same time. He blamed it on the beer. Dope didn't play that kind of games with your head. at the end of the bar got wind of things and shook off the two men who'd been buying them beer all night. They worked their way down to the end of the bar where Tom and Reed were sitting. The one still looked kind of dazed and the other one still looked kind of like she wanted to bite somebody, but the beer was starting to push them both toward a kind of woozy middle ground. They were beginning to look like anybody else. Tom asked could they buy them a couple of drinks and Reed laughed and said maybe they ought to card them first just to be on the safe side. You had to be nineteen. Ha ha ha. The way he said it gave Tom the creeps. Like Reed was some kind of dirty old man, which would make him a dirty old man too. The college kids were still working the bowling machines and the ferocious girl kept looking over at them. It made Tom kind of angry and a little bit sad at the same time. He blamed it on the beer. Dope didn't play that kind of games with your head.

The dazed girl had taken one of his cigarettes and was lighting it off a little votive candle that she'd taken from a table in the other room. She put her face up near his, and over the music from the jukebox she asked him what kind of games he was talking about in particular.

He looked at her like she'd just read his mind.

She blew smoke out the side of her mouth and asked again. This dazed-looking girl who had read his mind and couldn't have been more than seventeen if she was a day. When he didn't answer right off she pulled on the cigarette again and let the smoke leak back out while she said that even though he maybe hadn't meant to say it out loud she'd heard him anyway. She had ears like an elephant. Her father always said so.

He said he hadn't meant anything by it. Then he said her ears didn't look all that bad, they sure as h.e.l.l didn't look like the ears on any elephant he'd ever seen, and he pushed her hair back behind one of them with his finger. The dazed-looking girl smiled at him and asked if he was sure he hadn't meant anything when he'd said what he'd said about dope. Seeing as how she sure could use a little.

Tom checked and saw that his buddy Reed was doing less well with the ferocious-looking girl, which he decided was just too d.a.m.ned bad. It was about time Karl Reed got used to living in the real world.

1945.

Preston.

WHEN THE U.S. A U.S. ARMY called me up, Margaret and I hadn't even found a place of our own. We were still staying with my folks. We were still looking around and saving up, so for lack of anyplace better she just kept right on where we'd been, up in that attic room, with me going off on the troop train and then stationed down in Texas for a while and then sent to France after that. I've got no time for a Frenchman to this day. Here we were, the U.S. Army, liberating their country and saving them from Hitler, and we had to pretty much sleep on the ground. Not just when we were in between towns, but all over. I remember this one farmer wouldn't even let us sleep in his hay barn. Imagine that. The U.S. Army, come to save their sorry called me up, Margaret and I hadn't even found a place of our own. We were still staying with my folks. We were still looking around and saving up, so for lack of anyplace better she just kept right on where we'd been, up in that attic room, with me going off on the troop train and then stationed down in Texas for a while and then sent to France after that. I've got no time for a Frenchman to this day. Here we were, the U.S. Army, liberating their country and saving them from Hitler, and we had to pretty much sleep on the ground. Not just when we were in between towns, but all over. I remember this one farmer wouldn't even let us sleep in his hay barn. Imagine that. The U.S. Army, come to save their sorry derrieres derrieres.

I learned resentment in France.

And I guess I grew up while I was over there, even though I was already an old married man when I left home. What you are and what you think you are can be two different things. When I came back I was a changed man and things were changed here at home. They kept right on changing. That's how it was everywhere after the war.

With Lester gone, Vernon had pretty well taken over the farm. Ruth was still with us, but other than what you'd strictly call the women's work, which was up to her, the boys ran the place and they'd let it go pretty far downhill. Which was saying something. Not that I don't understand. Minus Lester, there was a lot more work for everybody. The acreage and the livestock and all the rest hadn't changed, just the hands available to work it. A whole lot can go wrong in two years.

Anyhow I grew up while I was in France and the older of those boys grew up while I was away. By grew up grew up you know what I mean. Not that I got near any of those French girls myself. But a boy goes through certain things no matter what. In France or on a farm. A French girl can't teach you anything you can't learn about in a cow barn. Audie was slow in a lot of things but I don't guess he was slow in that. The way I hear it, he was the reason they put up the door. The door between their mother's room. He wouldn't stay out of there on his own and she couldn't keep him out and to tell you the truth n.o.body knew what he might try sometime. He's never been a very big individual but he was getting his growth. Not that I hold anything against him. It's the way he was built. But they put up that door on account of him and once it was up Ruth about froze to death all winter. It didn't even keep her middle boy out unless she put a chair against it from the inside, but it sure kept out the heat. you know what I mean. Not that I got near any of those French girls myself. But a boy goes through certain things no matter what. In France or on a farm. A French girl can't teach you anything you can't learn about in a cow barn. Audie was slow in a lot of things but I don't guess he was slow in that. The way I hear it, he was the reason they put up the door. The door between their mother's room. He wouldn't stay out of there on his own and she couldn't keep him out and to tell you the truth n.o.body knew what he might try sometime. He's never been a very big individual but he was getting his growth. Not that I hold anything against him. It's the way he was built. But they put up that door on account of him and once it was up Ruth about froze to death all winter. It didn't even keep her middle boy out unless she put a chair against it from the inside, but it sure kept out the heat.

I came back from France in October and she was already complaining that with winter on its way she didn't know what she'd do. She thought she'd freeze to death. I told Vernon that his father'd always promised to knock a hole in the wall that'd let in the heat from the stove, and Vernon said a hole didn't seem too much for his own mother to ask for. He guessed he could handle it, but I said there was more to it than he might think. I'd help. I was already back working at the lumberyard then. I told my father what Ruth needed and he told me help myself. I got a matched pair of register grates, one for the kitchen wall and one for the bedroom. Not big. Maybe eighteen inches on a side. Those and some screws and some sandpaper and a little patching compound and a can of paint. My father owned plenty of tools so I borrowed everything else we'd need. You couldn't count on those boys to have anything. If I hadn't been there they'd probably done it with a sledgehammer.

Ruth.

THE ARMY HAS MADE Preston thinner than he was before-thinner than he will ever be again-and between that and his newfound discipline and his sharply pressed khakis he brings an austere and military air to the project. Just the way he holds himself inspires confidence in the Proctor boys. They respond to him as if he were their commanding officer. Ruth takes Donna out on the porch and calls to Creed but he won't come. He is all eyes. Twelve years old and all eyes. As if in the marking of the square and the sawing of the hole and the prying loose of the lath and plaster he is present at the revelation of some mystery unseen by ordinary men. Something very nearly const.i.tuting religion. Preston thinner than he was before-thinner than he will ever be again-and between that and his newfound discipline and his sharply pressed khakis he brings an austere and military air to the project. Just the way he holds himself inspires confidence in the Proctor boys. They respond to him as if he were their commanding officer. Ruth takes Donna out on the porch and calls to Creed but he won't come. He is all eyes. Twelve years old and all eyes. As if in the marking of the square and the sawing of the hole and the prying loose of the lath and plaster he is present at the revelation of some mystery unseen by ordinary men. Something very nearly const.i.tuting religion.

They have moved everything from the front room onto the porch. The table, the chairs, the chest of drawers. The rag rug and the washtub and the icebox. Preston tells Audie to hang a bedsheet over the cabinets to keep sawdust and plaster dust and G.o.d knows what other kinds of filth from getting into things once they start cutting. He marks the wall with a carpenter's pencil and a square. He drills into the corner for a place to start the saw. He works carefully and surely. When the piece is out he drills through the four corners of the hole into the opposite side and goes around into the bedroom and marks those corners with the square and the pencil, and the brothers watch the procedure as if he is performing magic or summoning spirits.

He cuts the second hole and marks where the screws will go. He has brought his father's electric drill from home and he shows Vernon how to use it to make the pilot holes. When Vernon pulls the trigger it jumps in his hands like something rabid, which draws laughter from everyone but Vernon himself. The first time he touches the bit to the wall it skitters off across the plaster but Preston tells him that's all right, he's brought some compound to fill the sc.r.a.pe with and some paint that nearly matches. Later on Audie gives the drill a try and he does no better. They hand it over to Creed for the last couple of holes, and having watched the missteps of his older brothers he takes to it instantly. It must weigh half of what he does, but he shrugs and says there's nothing to it. Then he puts it down on the floor and goes off to fetch the screws from where Preston left them on the table, just as cool as you please.

1990.

Audie.

THE TROOPER CAME and took my brother in the car. It was pretty early in the day but we were finished milking and we had a minute just to sit. The cows were back up in the pasture and the truck from the co-op would be along soon, so I had a minute. You don't get a lot of time to yourself. I had a field to plow but I didn't want to get out there and have to come back when the truck came. I would have gone if Vernon was there to stay behind but he wasn't. So I just sat on the porch waiting for the truck. I was carving some. Then here came that trooper up the road with that big blue car of his throwing up dust. He got out and he was full of questions and he took my brother off. and took my brother in the car. It was pretty early in the day but we were finished milking and we had a minute just to sit. The cows were back up in the pasture and the truck from the co-op would be along soon, so I had a minute. You don't get a lot of time to yourself. I had a field to plow but I didn't want to get out there and have to come back when the truck came. I would have gone if Vernon was there to stay behind but he wasn't. So I just sat on the porch waiting for the truck. I was carving some. Then here came that trooper up the road with that big blue car of his throwing up dust. He got out and he was full of questions and he took my brother off.

Preston.

VERNON WASN'T EVEN IN the ground when they started after Creed. I don't believe that's right. I don't believe that's any way to do things. A man should have an opportunity to put his own brother in the ground before the authorities start giving him the third degree about it. the ground when they started after Creed. I don't believe that's right. I don't believe that's any way to do things. A man should have an opportunity to put his own brother in the ground before the authorities start giving him the third degree about it.

How can anybody hope to get a straight answer from a man whose brother isn't even in the ground? A man who isn't even given time to grieve his own brother has been punished enough.

When I picture it I see Creed sitting at a table in a dark room with a hundred-watt bulb hung right over his head, and even though I guess that's not the way they do it outside the movies it's still what I see when I think about it. Poor Creed. I'll bet that's how it seemed in his mind too. Like he was getting the third degree in some cop show.

Tell you the truth, the first thing I thought when I saw them go was it might have been Creed's idea. The way he was just walking along there behind Graham like a puppy. Docile, I'd call it. Like the two of them were going on a fishing trip. That's how it looked. Like Andy and Opie. Every morning since I quit work I go downtown and have breakfast, a bunch of us drink coffee and shoot the breeze and what have you, and I was just coming out of the garage to go when I saw them out there like that. One behind the other, going toward the car.

I said a puppy, but a lamb to the slaughter is what I should have said.

I pulled up alongside the car and I got out. I said my good-mornings to Creed and Graham both, but they were pretty quiet right back. Audie was up on the porch. His head was faced our way and his hands were shaking. He had his knife in one hand and a piece of wood in the other and I wished that he'd calm down. I was hoping the wind would come up and start those whirligigs turning. That'd been the best thing for him. I don't believe he could see Creed going from up there but he knew he was going. His eyes looked black and kind of shaded over and his lip jumped a little under his beard. It wasn't like he was going to cry but more like he was going to come apart. I guess Creed wasn't the only fuse they lit that day.

Del.

WHEN I I DROVE OUT DROVE OUT to talk with the Proctor brothers I didn't have any fixed idea about bringing either one of them back to the barracks with me. It just turned out that way. We sat on the porch and I asked both of them some questions, but not many. What they'd seen, what they remembered. What time they'd gone to bed that night and what time they'd woken up. What they'd watched on television the night before. They couldn't agree if it was to talk with the Proctor brothers I didn't have any fixed idea about bringing either one of them back to the barracks with me. It just turned out that way. We sat on the porch and I asked both of them some questions, but not many. What they'd seen, what they remembered. What time they'd gone to bed that night and what time they'd woken up. What they'd watched on television the night before. They couldn't agree if it was The Simpsons The Simpsons or or Roseanne Roseanne. I don't know which of them was right about that since I don't watch a lot of television myself, but I can check the papers. That's easy enough. Maybe they watched both. It doesn't mean anything anyhow. They were just a few questions I was asking.

After a while I asked Creed if he would mind coming back to the barracks with me, and he said that he wouldn't mind provided we didn't take too long. He had ch.o.r.es to do, and I could see that he was concerned about seeing to them, but he didn't hesitate to come. I think it was kind of an adventure in his mind. I let him ride up front. I didn't think there was any harm in granting him that little bit of dignity, although you could make a case that it gave him the wrong impression as to his circ.u.mstance. I did try to be clear about all that, though. A little ways out of town I got his attention and we went through his rights. First I went over the letter of the law and then I explained everything again just as clearly as I possibly could in very simple language. Creed Proctor doesn't possess a great intellect. He's a person who's very easily confused. I did everything I could for him in that department.

He didn't want an attorney. He made that clear. I asked him if he was certain and I went so far as to determine that he knew exactly what an attorney could do on his behalf. The importance of it. He a.s.sured me that he knew all about that from watching the cop shows on television. The cop shows and the lawyer shows. He knew what a district attorney was and what a defense attorney was, and he knew how they'd take opposite sides. I was persuaded that he knew what he was giving up, or else I wouldn't have let it go.

He didn't want a defense attorney. He said it just like that. He said he had no use for a defense attorney. I made sure he knew that he wouldn't have to pay for it if he couldn't, but he was adamant.

Creed.

DEL G GRAHAM ASKED if I wanted us to stop at McDonald's before we went to the station but I said no. I had my breakfast already. He said how about just a little coffee and I said no I didn't care for none. I said I seen from the television how they always have a pot of coffee at the police station so I guessed we could do without McDonald's. if I wanted us to stop at McDonald's before we went to the station but I said no. I had my breakfast already. He said how about just a little coffee and I said no I didn't care for none. I said I seen from the television how they always have a pot of coffee at the police station so I guessed we could do without McDonald's.

I told him I had to be home by lunch for ch.o.r.es. Audie was all by his lonesome. He said he didn't know when we'd be finished. He couldn't make any promises. He said we'd get some hamburgers at lunchtime if we wasn't finished and we needed some. He was crazy about McDonald's I guess.

Del.

FIRST WE TALKED about the farm. We talked about his parents and his brothers, and how they'd had it growing up. Those men lead an isolated life. They see the regular world on television and then in the morning they get up and go back out into a different world all their own. It must seem like a dream. about the farm. We talked about his parents and his brothers, and how they'd had it growing up. Those men lead an isolated life. They see the regular world on television and then in the morning they get up and go back out into a different world all their own. It must seem like a dream.

The sister intrigues me, though. Donna. How did she cut herself loose?