'Yes sir,' Ned said. 'We has that back home too. Only they mentions why, even to niggers.'
'Oh, a lawyer,' Butch said. 'He wants to see a paper. Show him one. —Never mind, I'll do it.' He took something from his hip pocket: a letter in a soiled envelope. Ned took it. He stood there quietly, holding it in his hand. 'What do you think of that,' Butch said. 'A man that cant even read, wanting to see a paper. Smell it then. Maybe it smells all right.'
'Yes sir,' Ned said. 'It's all right.'
'Dont say you are satisfied if you aint,' Butch said. 'Yes sir,' Ned said. 'It's all right.' We had the crowd now. Butch took the envelope back from Ned and put it back in his pocket and spoke to them: 'It's all right, boys; just a little legal difficulty about who owns this horse. The race aint cancelled. The first heat will still stand; the next ones are just put off until tomorrow. Can you hear me back there?'
'We likely cant, if the bets is cancelled too,' a voice said. There was a guffaw, then two or three.
'I dont know,' Butch said. 'Anybody that seen this Memphis horse run against Akron them two heats last winter and still bet on him, has done already cancelled his money out before he even got it put up.' He waited, but there was no laughter this time; then the voice—or another—said:
'Does Walter Clapp think that too? Ten foot more, and that chestnut would a beat him today.'
'All right, all right,' Butch said. 'Settle it tomorrow. Aint nothing changed; the next two heats is just put off until tomorrow. The fifty-dollar heat bets is still up and Colonel Linscomb aint won but one of them. Come on, now; we got to get this horse and these witnesses in to town where we can get everything cleared up and be ready to run again tomorrow. Somebody holler back there to send my surrey.' Then I saw Boon, a head above them. His face was quite calm now, still blood-streaked, and somebody (I had expected him to be handcuffed, but he wasn't; we were still democracy; he was still only a minority and not a heresy) had tied the sleeves of his torn shirt around his neck so that he was covered. Then I saw Sam too; he was barely marked; he was the one who pushed through first. 'Now, Sam,' Butch said. 'We been trying for thirty minutes to step around you, but you wont let us.'
'You damn right I wont,' Sam said. 'I'll ask you again, and let this be the last one. Are we under arrest?'
'Are who under arrest?' Butch said.
'Hogganbeck. Me. That Negro there.'
'Here's another lawyer,' Butch said to the other man. I learned quite quick now that he was the Law in Parsham; he was who Miss Reba had told us about last night: the elected constable of the Beat, where Butch for all his badge and pistol was just another guest like we were, being (Butch) just one more tenureless appointee from the nepotic files of the County Sheriff's office in the county seat at Hardwick thirteen miles away. 'Maybe he wants to see a paper too.'
'No,' the other man, the constable, told Sam. 'You can go whenever you want to.'
'Then I'm going back to Memphis to find some law,' Sam said. 'I mean the kind of law a man like me can approach without having his britches and underwear both ripped off. If I aint back tonight, I'll be here early tomorrow morning.' He had already seen me. He said, 'Come on. You come with me.'
'No,' I said. 'I'm going to stay here.' The constable was looking at me.
'You can go with him, if you want,' he said.
'No sir,' I said. 'I'm going to stay here.'
'Who does he belong to?' the constable said. 'He's with me,' Ned said. The constable said, as though Ned had not spoken, there had been no sound: 'Who brought him here?'
'Me,' Boon said. 'I work for his father.'
'I work for his grandfather,' Ned said. 'We done already fixed to take care of him.'
'Just hold on,' Sam said. 'I'll try to get back tonight. Then we can attend to everything.'
'And when you come back,' the constable said, 'remember that you aint in Memphis or Nashville either. That you aint even in Hardwick County except primarily. What you're in right now, and what you'll be in every time you get off of a train at that depot yonder, is Beat Four.'
'That's telling them, judge,' Butch said. 'The free state of Possum, Tennessee.'
'I was talking to you too,' the constable told Butch. 'You may be the one that better try hardest to remember it.' The surrey came up to where they were holding Boon. The constable gestured Ned toward it. Suddenly Boon was struggling; Ned was saying something to him. Then the constable turned back to me. 'That Negro says you are going home with old Possum Hood.'
'Yes sir,' I said.
'I dont think I like that—a white boy staying with a family of niggers. You come home with me.'
'No sir,' I said.
'Yes,' he said, but still really kind. 'Come on. I'm busy.'
'There's somewhere you stops,' Ned said. The constable became completely motionless, half turned. 'What did you say?' he said.
'There's somewhere the Law stops and just people starts,' Ned said. And still for another moment the constable didn't move—an older man than you thought at first, spare, quite hale, but older, who wore no pistol, in his pocket or anywhere else, and if he had a badge, it wasn't in sight either.
'You're right,' he said. He said to me: 'That's where you want to stay? with old Possum?'
'Yes sir,' I said.
'All right,' he said. He turned. 'Get in, boys,' he said. 'What you going to do with the nigger?' Butch said. He had taken the lines from the man who brought the surrey up; his foot was already on the stirrup to get into the driver's seat; Boon and Sam were already in the back. 'Let Mm ride your horse?'
