She slid quietly out of bed, and trotted into the other room, making no more noise than a shadow. I was pretty nervy, naturally, wondering who or what was upon the porch and what it might have to do with me and Rose. But the way she was taking things, sort of keeping out in front and leaving me in the background, was a big comfort. I thought about Myra's idea of Rose as someone meek and mild and ready to jump at her own shadow, and I almost laughed out loud. Rose could whip her weight in bobcats if she took a notion. She'd maybe let Tom get the best of her, but that just wasn't no way a fair match.
I heard the click of the key in the outside door.
I sat up, kind of poised on the edge of the bed, ready to move if she called to me.
I waited, holding my breath for quiet. There was another click, as Rose unlatched the screen, and then a rusty squeak as she pushed it open. Then…
It was a small house, like I've said. But from where I was to where she was was still quite a piece-maybe thirty feet or more. Yet that far away, I heard it. The gasp; the scared-crazy sound of her breath sucking in.
And then she screamed. Screamed and cussed in a way I don't ever want to hear again.
'N-Nick! Nick! The son-of-a-bitch is back! That goddam Tom's back!'
14
I grabbed for my pants, but the legs were twisted and the way Rose was carrying on, I didn't have no time to fool with 'em. Pants weren't what I needed anyway, with that god-danged Tom back. So I snatched up my gun, which I sure as heck did need, and ran for the door.
I tripped over a chair in the kitchen, almost taking a header against the wall. I righted myself, and dashed out to the porch. Then, I saw how things were-and they sure weren't good, all right, but they were a lot better than I'd expected 'em to be.
It was Tom's body that was there, not Tom. It had been left on the porch, face up, with the shotgun placed at the side. The beard had grown out some, because hair does go on growing for a while on dead people. He was all covered over with mud, and the middle of his body was just a big gutsy hole. His eyes were wide open and staring. The meanness was gone from them, but the fear that had taken its place was worse. Whatever death looked like, it sure didn't look good to him.
All in all, you might say he wasn't a very pretty sight. Nothing that would take first prize in a bestlookin'-fella contest. Old man Death had painted Tom Hauck in his true colors, and it wasn't an even halfway flattering portrait.
I couldn't really blame Rose for carrying on like she was. Almost any woman would have done the same, if her husband had come home in the middle of the night looking like Tom did. Rose had a right to raise a ruckus, but it wasn't helping things, particularly helping me to think. Which I was obviously in need of doing and fast. So I got an arm around her and tried to calm her down.
'Easy, now, honey, easy. This don't look so good, but-'
'Goddam you, why didn't you kill him?' She tore away from me. 'You told me you killed the son-of -a-bitch!'
'I did, baby. He sure don't look like no live man, now does he? He couldn't be no more dead if-'
'Then who brought him back here? What goddam dirty bastard did it? If I get my hands on the son-of-a-bitch-'
She broke off and whirled around wild.-eyed seeming to listen for something. I started to say I wanted to get my hands on the fella, too, because just why the heck had he done this anyway? Rose told me to shut my goddam mouth.
'Now, honey,' I said. 'That ain't no way to talk. We got to be calm and-'
'There!' she yelled, pointing. 'There he is! That's the son-of-a-bitch that did it!'
She leaped off the porch and started running. Racing up the lane that led from the house to the road. Her naked white body faded into the darkness. I hesitated, wondering if I shouldn't at beast put my pants on, and then I thought what the heck, and I ran after her.
I couldn't see whatever Rose had seen. I couldn't hardly see nothing, it being so dark. But I did hear something-the squeak of wagon wheels and the soft plod-plod of horses' hooves on the muddy lane.
I kept running. Finally, the squeaking and the plodding stopped and I saw the white of Rose's body. Then, she was cussing and screaming again, ordering whoever it was to climb down off the wagon.
'Get down, you black bastard! Get down, goddam you! What the hell's the idea of bringing back that son-of-a-bitch of a husband of mine?'
'Miz Rose. Please, ma'am, Miz Rose. I-' It was the soft, frightened voice of a man.
'I'll show you, you son-of-a-bitch! I'll teach you! I'll peel your black ass right down to the bones!'
She was trying to tear loose a piece of harness strap when I ran up. I jerked her around, and she faced me wild-eyed, pointing shakily to the fella who stood at the side of the wagon.
It was Uncle John, the colored fella I mentioned earlier. He was standing with his hands half-raised, and in the darkness his frightened eyes seemed all whites. He kept them turned away, naturally, because a colored fella could get himself killed for looking at a naked white woman.
'H-He-he did it!' Rose began to bawl. 'He brought the son-of-a-bitch back, Nick!'
'Well, now, I'm sure he didn't mean no harm by it,' I said. 'Howdy do, Uncle John. Nice evenin'.'
'Thank you, Mistah Nick. I's feelin' to l'able thank you.' His voice shook with fear. 'Yes, suh, sho' is a fine evenin'.'
'You son-of-a-bitch!' Rose yelled. 'What'd you bring him back for? Why do you think we got rid of the dirty bastard, anyway?'
'Rose!' I said, '
He'd already seen a lot, a heck of a lot more than it was healthy to see. He sure didn't want to hear anything to go with it. Rose slipped away from me again, opening her mouth for another yell, and Uncle John tried to stopper his ears with his fingers. But he knew it was no good. He heard, and he knew that I knew it.
'It's not fair, Nick, goddam it! You go to all the trouble of killing the son-of-a-bitch, and this bastard brings him back!'
I slapped her across the mouth. She whirled and came at me, hands clawed. I grabbed her by the hair, lifted her off the ground, and gave her a criss-cross slap, backwards and forwards.
'You get the idea?' I said, letting her back down on her feet. 'Now, you shut up and get back to the house or I'll give you the worst beating you ever had in your life.'
Her hand went slowly to her face. She looked down at herself, seeming to realize for the first time that she was naked. Shivering, she tried to cover up with her hands, shooting a scared look at Uncle John.
'N-Nick. What-what'll we-'
'Go on, do what I told you to.' I gave her a push toward the house. 'Me an' Uncle John will handle this.'
'B-But-but why did he do it?'
'I got an idea about that, too,' I said. 'You run along, now, and everything will be fine.'
She hesitated, then scampered back up the lane. I waited until I was sure she was really gone, and then I turned around to Uncle John.
I smiled at him, and he tried to smile back. But his teeth were chattering so bad that he couldn't.
'Now, don't be scared, Uncle John,' I told him. 'You got nothin' to fear from me. Ain't I always
