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 where he could be seen. He sobers up before this usually. I don’t 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 good man. He’s just down. It’s no trouble to kick someone when they’re down.”
“I’m not kickin’ him,” I said. “I come into town to get some help to pull Grandma’s car out of a ditch.”
“It’s not like the business is pourin’ in today,” Cecil said. “I’ll help you, you want. We can use your Daddy’s car.”
Me and him had put a small plan together. I was to go by Mrs. Canerton’s with Tom, to keep her away from Daddy, and he was going to walk over and get Daddy’s car, leading Sally as he went. He said there was some good grass out back of his house, and he’d put her on a long rope where she could have it till we come to get her. He would then meet us out front of Mrs. Canerton’s in Daddy’s car. I figured he was hoping he would see her.
Me and Tom knocked on Mrs. Canerton’s door, but she wasn’t home. I put the book on the porch swing, sorry not to get a new one from her.
Me and Tom sat on her front porch and waited on Cecil, drinking our Dr Peppers, eating our peanut patties. It wasn’t long before Cecil showed. He didn’t get out of the car. We went and got in.
“Ain’t Daddy around?” Tom said.
“He’s about business,” Cecil said. “We’ll see him later.”
We drove off toward Preacher’s Road.
It was dark by the time Grandma’s car was pulled out of the mud. There was nothing but for me to drive it home, following Cecil in Daddy’s car.
Tom rode with Cecil. He let her sit in his lap and steer some, but that didn’t last long. She soon moved to her side. Cecil was friendly, but he wasn’t stupid enough to let her wreck.
I followed, steering a little too hard, causing the car to go way too far to one side, then the other, but we made it home without me running off in another ditch or meeting a tree head-on. I even managed to pass a car without scaring the other driver too much.
By the time we stopped off at the house and I rode back with Cecil in Daddy’s car to get Sally, it got dark and the moon looked like a mashed potato in the sky, rain clouds running over it like burned gravy.
We got to Cecil’s, Daddy was gone. I don’t know where, since he didn’t have a car, but he had slipped off. The whiskey bottle wasn’t by the bed anymore. If nothing else, he was a neat drunk.
“Your Grandma can bring your Daddy into town tomorrow to get the car,” Cecil said. “I’ll have it over to the barbershop bright and early. I think it’s better you just take the mule on home, not try and drive at night. You ain’t got the experience, Harry.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s okay.”
We walked out on the front porch. I felt awkward and didn’t know what to do with my hands. Finally I offered one to Cecil. He 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 porch 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 it in Sally’s saddlebag, mounted up.
I rarely ever was out this late by myself, so I decided to take advantage of it. I rode Sally over to Miss Maggie’s. Unlike Mrs. Canerton’s, there was a light in the window. There was 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 waited a moment, trying to decide if I should bother her or go home. I had come to the conclusion I ought to just go on home, when I looked up to the sound of the car door slamming. The car started up. The taillights showed. One of them was broken. It was the same car that had sped away that time we got the message about Mose.
The car looped fast around the house, right through Miss Maggie’s yard, came around the side, between some trees. I tried to get a look, saw a man in a hat, and that was it. The car hit the dirt road, flashed its broken taillight at me, and was gone.
I started to chase after it, but that idea went away quick. Sally couldn’t keep up with that car, not even a little bit. She’d fall over dead if I pushed her to even try.
I got off Sally, tied her to a tree, walked toward Miss Maggie’s. I felt something in the air I can’t explain. Maybe it was just the car that had set me on edge, but it was as if the night were filled with needles and the cool points of them were sticking in my skin.
I walked quietly up on Miss Maggie’s porch. I turned to look toward the mule pen. The mule was there. The hog was in his pen, lying down in a mud pit it had made in one corner.
The screen was closed, but the door was slightly open. I could see the kerosene lamp sitting on top of the wood stove. 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 time, I opened the door and eased inside.
“Miss Maggie,” I tried some more.
I went over to the little curtain, still calling her name. I eased it back. The light from the lamp spilled inside, giving a greasy orange glow to the bed.
Miss Maggie, wearing one of her potato sack gowns, was lying on the bed, her hands extended above her in praise Jesus position, her wrists were bent against the wall, causing her thin black hands to fold downward as if she were dumping something from them. Her eyes were open.
I felt a tightening in my stomach, then a sourness. I called her name. I went over and touched her gently on the shoulder. I 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 over to the lamp and blew it out.
I went out on the porch and stood there for a long moment, considering the night. The night had nothing to say. I walked back to Sally as if in a dream. I untied her and mounted. I started riding toward home.
I didn’t push Sally too hard, but I rode at as good a gait as she could carry me without wearing herself down. In the meantime, I was mentally trying to put something together; I was trying 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 you. I think someone stole the car. I was walkin’ home, ’side the road. Saw you comin’ ’round the curve. I was afraid you’d get away from me.”
“You’re drunk,” I said.
“I was,” he said, and let go of Sally’s bridle. “I ain’t now. I’ve walked it off.”
“I thought you slept it off.”
For a moment, from the cock of his head, I knew he thought I had said too much. But he eased his posture, let it go.
“Car ain’t stolen,” I said. “It’s back at Cecil’s house. We had to use it to pull Grandma’s car out of a ditch. I come over 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 thought maybe you might have got back. I was hopin’ you wouldn’t be too drunk to do somethin’ about it. Not that anything’s gonna do Miss Maggie any good.”
“She was old, Harry,” Daddy said, practically leaning on Sally.
I told him about the car, about the taillight.
