And then Hutch he got back of the old man and crowned him with a wrench what he had hid in his coat.
II
Well, next off hutch gets sore as hell at Burbie ’cause there ain’t no more’n $23 in the pot. He didn’t do nothing. He just set there, first looking at the money, what he had piled up on a table, and then looking at Burbie.
And then Burbie commences soft-soaping him. He says hope my die he thought there was a thousand dollars anyway in the pot, on account the old man being like he was. And he says hope my die it sure was a big surprise to him how little there was there. And he says hope my die it sure does make him feel bad, on account he’s the one had the idea first. And he says hope my die it’s all his fault and he’s going to let Hutch keep all the money, damn if he ain’t. He ain’t going to take none of it for hisself at all, on account of how bad he feels. And Hutch, he don’t say nothing at all, only look at Burbie and look at the money.
And right in the middle of while Burbie was talking, they heard a whole lot of hollering out in front of the house and somebody blowing a automobile horn. And Hutch jumps up and scoops the money and the wrench off the table in his pockets, and hides the pot back in the fireplace. And then he grabs the old man and him and Burbie carries him out the back door, hists him in the wagon, and drives off. And how they was to drive off without them people seeing them was because they come in the back way and that was the way they went. And them people in the automobile, they was a bunch of old folks from the Methodist church what knowed Lida was away and didn’t think so much of Lida nohow and come out to say hello. And when they come in and didn’t see nothing, they figured the old man had went in to town and so they went back.
Well, Hutch and Burbie was in a hell of a fix all right. ’Cause there they was, driving along somewheres with the old man in the wagon and they didn’t have no more idea than a bald-headed coot where they was going or what they was going to do with him. So Burbie, he commence to whimper. But Hutch kept a-setting there, driving the horse, and he don’t say nothing.
So pretty soon they come to a place where they was building a piece of county road, and it was all tore up and a whole lot of toolboxes laying out on the side. So Hutch gets out and twists the lock off one of them with the wrench, and takes out a pick and a shovel and throws them in the wagon. And then he got in again and drove on for a while till he come to the Whooping Nannie woods, what some of them says has got a ghost in it on dark nights, and it’s about three miles from the old man’s farm. And Hutch turns in there and pretty soon he come to a kind of a clear place and he stopped. And then, first thing he’s said to Burbie, he says,
“Dig that grave!”
So Burbie dug the grave. He dug for two hours, until he got so damn tired he couldn’t hardly stand up. But he ain’t hardly made no hole at all. ’Cause the ground is froze and even with the pick he couldn’t hardly make a dent in it scarcely. But anyhow Hutch stopped him and they throwed the old man in and covered him up. But after they got him covered up his head was sticking out. So Hutch beat the head down good as he could and piled the dirt up around it and they got in and drove off.
After they’d went a little ways, Hutch commence to cuss Burbie. Then he said Burbie’d been lying to him. But Burbie, he swears he ain’t been lying. And then Hutch says he was lying and with that he hit Burbie. And after he knocked Burbie down in the bottom of the wagon he kicked him and then pretty soon Burbie up and told him about Lida. And when Burbie got done telling him about Lida, Hutch turned the horse around. Burbie asked then what they was going back for and Hutch says they’re going back for to git a present for Lida. So they come back to the grave and Hutch made Burbie cut off the old man’s head with the shovel. It made Burbie sick, but Hutch made him stick at it, and after a while Burbie had it off. So Hutch throwed it in the wagon and they get in and start back to town once more.
Well, they wasn’t no more’n out of the woods before Hutch takes hisself a slug of corn and commence to holler. He kind of raved to hisself, all about how he was going to make Burbie put the head in a box and tie it up with a string and take it out to Lida for a present, so she’d get a nice surprise when she opened it. Soon as Lida comes back he says Burbie has got to do it, and then he’s going to kill Burbie. “I’ll kill you!” he says. “I’ll kill you, damn you! I’ll kill you!” And he says it kind of singsongy, over and over again.
And then he takes hisself another slug of corn and stands up and whoops. Then he beat on the horse with the whip and the horse commence to run. What I mean, he commence to gallop. And then Hutch hit him some more. And then he commence to screech as loud as he could. “Ride him, cowboy!” he hollers. “Going East! Here come old broadcuff down the road! Whe-e-e-e-e!” And sure enough, here they come down the road, the horse a-running hell to split, and Hutch a-hollering, and Burbie a-shivering, and the head a-rolling around in the bottom of the wagon, and bouncing up in the air when they hit a bump, and Burbie damn near dying every time it hit his feet.
III
After a while the horse got tired so it wouldn’t run no more, and they had to let him walk and Hutch set down and commence to grunt. So Burbie, he tries to figure out what the hell he’s going to do with the head. And pretty soon he remembers a creek what they got to cross, what they ain’t crossed on the way out ’cause they come the back way. So he figures he’ll throw the head overboard when Hutch ain’t looking. So he done it. They come to the creek, and on the way down to the bridge there’s a little hill, and when the wagon tilted going down the hill the head rolled up between Burbie’s feet, and he held it there, and when they got in the middle of the bridge he reached down and heaved it overboard.
Next off, Hutch give a yell and drop down in the bottom of the wagon. ’Cause what it sounded like was a pistol shot. You see, Burbie done forgot that it was a cold night and the creek done froze over. Not much, just a thin skim about a inch thick, but enough that when that head hit it it cracked pretty loud in different directions. And that was what scared Hutch. So when he got up and seen the head setting out there on the ice in the moonlight, and got it straight what Burbie done, he let on he was going to kill Burbie right there. And he reached for the pick. And Burbie jumped out and run, and he didn’t never stop till he got home at the place where he lived at, and locked the door, and climbed in bed and pulled the covers over his head.
Well, the next morning a fellow come running into town and says there’s hell to pay down at the bridge. So we all went down there and first thing we seen was that head laying out there on the ice, kind of rolled over on one ear. And next thing we seen was Hutch’s horse and wagon tied to the bridge rail, and the horse damn near froze to death. And the next thing we seen was the hole in the ice where Hutch fell through. And the next thing we seen down on the bottom next to one of the bridge pilings, was Hutch.
So the first thing we went to work and done was to get the head. And believe me a head laying out on thin ice is a pretty damn hard thing to get, and what we had to do was to lasso it. And the next thing we done was to get Hutch. And after we fished him out he had the wrench and the $23 in his pockets and the pint of corn on his hip and he was stiff as a board. And near as I can figure out, what happened to him was that after Burbie run away he climbed down on the bridge piling and tried to reach the head and fell in.
But we didn’t know nothing about it then, and after we done got the head and the old man was gone and a couple of boys that afternoon found the body and not the head on it, and the pot was found, and them old people from the Methodist church done told their story and one thing and another, we figured out that Hutch done it, ’specially on account he must of been drunk and he done time in the pen and all like of that, and nobody ain’t thought nothing about Burbie at all. They had the funeral and Lida cried like hell and everybody tried to figure out what Hutch wanted with the head and things went along thataway for three weeks.
Then one night down to the p
oolroom they was having it some more about the head, and one says one thing and one says another, and Benny Heath, what’s a kind of a constable around town, he started a long bum argument about how Hutch must of figured if they couldn’t find the head to the body they couldn’t prove no murder. So right in the middle of it Burbie kind of looked around like he always done and then he winked. And Benny Heath, he kept on a-talking, and after he got done Burbie kind of leaned over and commence to talk to him. And in a couple of minutes you couldn’t of heard a man catch his breath in that place, accounten they was all listening at Burbie.
I already told you Burbie was pretty good when it comes to giving a spiel at a entertainment. Well, this here was a kind of a spiel too. Burbie act like he had it all learned by heart. His voice trimmled and ever couple of minutes he’d kind of cry and wipe his eyes and make out like he can’t say no more, and then he’d go on.
And the big idea was what a whole lot of hell he done raised in his life. Burbie said it was drink and women what done ruined him. He told about all the women what he knowed, and all the saloons he’s been in, and some of it was a lie ’cause if all the saloons was as swell as he said they was they’d of throwed him out. And then he told about how sorry he was about the life he done led, and how hope my die he come home to his old home town just to get out the devilment and settle down. And he told about Lida, and how she wouldn’t let him cut it out. And then he told how she done led him on till he got the idea to kill the old man. And then he told about how him and Hutch done it, and all about the money and the head and all the rest of it.
And what it sounded like was a piece what he knowed called “The Face on the Floor,” what was about a bum what drawed a picture on the barroom floor of the woman what done ruined him. Only the funny part was that Burbie wasn’t ashamed of hisself like he made out he was. You could see he was proud of hisself. He was proud of all them women and all the liquor he’d drunk and he was proud about Lida and he was proud about the old man and the head and being slick enough not to fall in the creek with Hutch. And after he got done he give a yelp and flopped down on the floor and I reckon maybe he thought he was going to die on the spot like the bum what drawed the face on the barroom floor, only he didn’t. He kind of lain there a couple of minutes till Benny got him up and put him in the car and tooken him off to jail.
So that’s where he’s at now, and he’s went to work and got religion down there, and all the people what comes to see him, why he sings hymns to them and then he speaks them his piece. And I hear tell he knows it pretty good by now and has got the crying down pat. And Lida, they got her down there too, only she won’t say nothing ’cepting she done it same as Hutch and Burbie. So Burbie, he’s going to get hung, sure as hell. And if he hadn’t felt so smart, he would of been a free man yet.
Only I reckon he done been holding it all so long he just had to spill it.
Mommy’s a Barfly
On the bar, in the space between the fat man’s Tom Collins and the sailor’s beer, a girl was dancing. She wore a white muslin blouse, a red print dress with shoulder straps, black shoes, and white socklets; she was an uncommonly pretty girl, she was known as Pokey, and she was four years old. As she danced, she smiled at the pianist, who thumped a tiny instrument that had been tucked under the bar, and held out her skirts. When the tune ended, she did a pirouette, bowed, and received a crackling hand. Then, from a booth, a woman came over, kissed her, and listed her down. She was a woman of medium height and undeniably arresting-looking. She was dark, and there was something slightly gaunt about her figure and haggard about her face. She would have touched tragic beauty if there hadn’t been something bummy about her.
When Pokey had run over to the soldier with whom the woman was sitting and climbed in his lap, the pianist clapped loudly and called for an encore. The bartender, who was also the owner of the place, said: “It’s OK, Fred. She taps nice and she’s sweet. But when she’s using the bar for a dance floor I can’t use it for a bar, and it’s as a bar that it pays.”
“Says who?”
“The register.”
“So?”
“Sing me a song, Fred. Not no ‘Rosie.’ Not no ‘Daisy.’ And specially not no ‘Annie.’ Something nice. Sing me a song about Paris.”
“Jake, have you become refined?”
“Them hop waltzes, they’re beer music. But a nice song about Paris, that puts people in mind to drink B&B and other imported stock that shows a profit when you move it, it’s OK.”
“Then that clears it up.”
But before Fred could sing about Paris, Pokey was back. When the fat man lifter her up, she said: “Mommy says if you want me to, I can dance once encore. And Fred, play ‘Little Glow-Worm.”
Pokey got a terrific hand that time. When she had returned to the booth, Jake made a beautiful drink of lemonade, sliced orange, cherries, and sugared mint, and carried it to Pokey. When he came back he said to Fred: “Mommy’s no good if you ask me.”
“Nobody was asking you.”
“She’s still no good.”
“She’s good-looking, though, if you ask me.”
“If you like a good-looking barfly.”
“Aren’t barflies OK? You knowing our clientele?”
“Why not?”
In response to a blonde girl’s request, Fred sang “Night and Day,” then said reflectively: “I don’t say a lot of them wouldn’t look good on a rock pile, but they’re the only clientele we got, so it’s up to us to be broad-minded.”
“Why ain’t that kid home in bed?”
“Maybe she’s not sleepy.”
“At ten o’clock at night she’s not sleepy and she’s only four years old? You know when they get tucked in at her age? She ought to been in bed with all the prayers said and doll-baby’s night diaper put on and the light put out three hours ago.”
“I give up. What’s the answer?”
“Mommy.”
“Well, she likes booze. Don’t we all?”
“And that’s not all she likes.”
“Quiz Kid, what is it now?”
“Fred, it’s the twentieth century and there’s a war going on and, like you say, with this here clientele we got to be broad-minded, but—a married woman out with a soldier cuts up the same any time, any place, and any war, and when a little kid gets mixed up in it it’s not pretty.”
“You got this woman all wrong.”
“No, I haven’t”
“You thinking about Willie?”
“I don’t think much of Willie either, so far as that goes. Every night they come in here with Pokey, and OK, you say he don’t know better. Well if not, why not? Even them rats out back don’t bring little Sissie Rat in here. Speaking of her, when she’s in here with a soldier the first night Willie don’t show, that’s all I want to know.”
“You’re doing great, except for one thing.”
“What?”
“Kind of changes things around.”
Jake stared at the man who now held Pokey in his lap, then said incredulously to Fred: “You mean that good-looking sergeant is the one she’s married to and that other pie-faced runt is her … sweetie?”
“Talk louder, so they can all hear.”
“I’m asking you.”
“Why me? She’s the one.”
After Fred had sung “Lady Be Good,” the soldier came over. He was a big, smiling man, with jet-black curly hair and a face burned the color of dark mahogany. He said to Fred: “You like my daughter, I notice.”
“Your daughter is my one and only.”
“Do me a favor?”
“Shoot.”
“Take care of her a little while, will you?
At Fred’s puzzled look, he made a sheepish face. “So I can see my wife. Since I went away she only keeps a small apartment and—”
“I got it. It’s OK.”
The soldier had been holding his hat in his hand. From it a little trickle of sand ran out on the bar. He laughed, said: “No trouble to see where I’ve been. I bumped into them on their way to the beach, so of course we couldn’t disappoint Pokey. But, being as you’re taking her for a little while, it’s kind of a nice wife I’ve got, so—”
Smiling, he went back to the booth. Jake, who had been nearby, said: “That’s what he thinks.”
“Look: He says she’s nice and he don’t think. He knows.”
“He’s kidding hisself. You see what I see?”
“I don’t see a thing.”
“Neither does he, but I do. Fred, a wife that’s wig-wagging for more Scotch in the last two hours of twenty-four-hour leave, and he hasn’t even been home yet—she’s not nice.”
Jake served the Scotch, went back to his station beside the piano. The soldier looked at the drink in surprise. Then his face darkened. Then he started to say something, but looked at the child in his arms and checked himself. Then he got up, came over with Pokey, kissed her, nodded to Fred, and set her on the bar. Then he went back to the booth, started somewhat grimly to talk.
Pokey, her face pasty by now, her stance uncertain, her brown eyes yellow from lack of sleep, blinked uncertainly, then spread her skirts as though to dance. Fred struck a chord, but Jake lifter her down, said: “Fred, get me that cushion.”
“That—?”
“Cushion. From the booth. On the end.”
The cushion, when Fred came back with it, was leather, but stuffed full and soft. Jake put it under the bar, first clearing out several cases of bottles. Then he went out the door with “his” and “her” pictures on it and came back with his street coat. Then he beckoned Pokey, who was watching him, as was everybody except the couple in the booth. Fred said: “You going to put her there?”