The cow in silhouette against the door nuzzles at the silhouette of the bucket, moaning.
Then I pass the stall. I have almost passed it. I listen to it saying for a long time before it can say the word and the listening part is afraid that there may not be time to say it. I feel my body, my bones and flesh beginning to part and open upon the alone, and the process of coming unalone is terrible. Lafe. Lafe. “Lafe” Lafe. Lafe. I lean a little forward, one foot advanced with dead walking. I feel the darkness rushing past my breast, past the cow; I begin to rush upon the darkness but the cow stops me and the darkness rushes on upon the sweet blast of her moaning breath, filled with wood and with silence.
“Vardaman. You, Vardaman.”
He comes out of the stall. “You durn little sneak! You durn little sneak!”
He does not resist; the last of rushing darkness flees whistling away. “What? I ain’t done nothing.”
“You durn little sneak!” My hands shake him, hard. Maybe I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t know they could shake so hard. They shake both of us, shaking.
“I never done it,” he says. “I never touched them.”
My hands stop shaking him, but I still hold him. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you answer when I called you?”
“I ain’t doing nothing.”
“You go on to the house and get your supper.”
He draws back. I hold him. “You quit now. You leave me be.”
“What were you doing down here? You didn’t come down here to sneak after me?”
“I never. I never. You quit, now. I didn’t even know you was down here. You leave me be.”
I hold him, leaning down to see his face, feel it with my eyes. He is about to cry. “Go on, now. I done put supper on and I’ll be there soon as I milk. You better go on before he eats everything up. I hope that team runs clean back to Jefferson.”
“He kilt her,” he says. He begins to cry.
“Hush.”
“She never hurt him and he come and kilt her.”
“Hush.” He struggles. I hold him. “Hush.”
“He kilt her.” The cow comes up behind us, moaning. I shake him again.
“You stop it, now. Right this minute. You’re fixing to make yourself sick and then you can’t go to town. You go on to the house and eat your supper.”
“I don’t want no supper. I don’t want to go to town.”
“We’ll leave you here, then. Lessen you behave, we will leave you. Go on, now, before that old green-eating tub of guts eats everything up from you.” He goes on, disappearing slowly into the hill. The crest, the trees, the roof of the house stand against the sky. The cow nuzzles at me, moaning. “You’ll just have to wait. What you got in you ain’t nothing to what I got in me, even if you are a woman too.” She follows me, moaning. Then the dead, hot, pale air breathes on my face again. He could fix it all right, if he just would. And he don’t even know it. He could do everything for me if he just knowed it. The cow breathes upon my hips and back, her breath warm, sweet, stertorous, moaning. The sky lies flat down the slope, upon the secret clumps. Beyond the hill sheet-lightning stains upward and fades. The dead air shapes the dead earth in the dead darkness, further away than seeing shapes the dead earth. It lies dead and warm upon me, touching me naked through my clothes. I said You don’t know what worry is. I don’t know what it is. I don’t know whether I am worrying or not. Whether I can or not. I don’t know whether I can cry or not. I don’t know whether I have tried to or not. I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.
Vardaman
When they get it finished they are going to put her in it and then for a long time I couldn’t say it. I saw the dark stand up and go whirling away and I said “Are you going to nail her up in it, Cash? Cash? Cash?” I got shut up in the crib the new door it was too heavy for me it went shut I couldn’t breathe because the rat was breathing up all the air. I said “Are you going to nail it shut, Cash? Nail it? Nail it?”
Pa walks around. His shadow walks around, over Cash going up and down above the saw, at the bleeding plank.
Dewey Dell said we will get some bananas. The train is behind the glass, red on the track. When it runs the track shines on and off. Pa said flour and sugar and coffee costs so much. Because I am a country boy because boys in town. Bicycles. Why do flour and sugar and coffee cost so much when he is a country boy. “Wouldn’t you ruther have some bananas instead?” Bananas are gone, eaten. Gone. When it runs on the track shines again. “Why ain’t I a town boy, pa?” I said God made me. I did not said to God to made me in the country. If He can make the train, why
