“That’s kind of you,” said Adam.
“How would you like to arrange it?”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, I can arrange it so you pay only so much a month.”
“Isn’t it more expensive that way?”
“Well, there’s interest and carrying charge. Some people find it convenient.”
“I think I’ll pay cash,” said Adam. “There’d be no point in putting it off.”
Will chuckled. “Not very many people feel that way,” he said. “And there’s going to come a time when I won’t be able to sell for cash without losing money.”
“I’d never thought of that,” said Adam. “You will put me on the list though?”
Will leaned toward him. “Mr. Trask, I’m going to put you on the top of the list. The first car that comes in, you’re going to have.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll be glad to do it for you,” said Will.
Adam asked, “How is your mother holding up?”
Will leaned back in his chair and an affectionate smile came on his face. “She’s a remarkable woman,” he said. “She’s like a rock. I think back on all the hard times we had, and we had plenty of them. My father wasn’t very practical. He was always off in the clouds or buried in a book. I think my mother held us together and kept the Hamiltons out of the poorhouse.”
“She’s a fine woman,” Adam said.
“Not only fine. She’s strong. She stands on her two feet. She’s a tower of strength. Did you come back to Olive’s house after the funeral?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well over a hundred people did. And my mother fried all that chicken and saw that everybody had enough.”
“She didn’t!”
“Yes, she did. And when you think—it was her own husband.”
“A remarkable woman,” Adam repeated Will’s phrase.
“She’s practical. She knew they had to be fed and she fed them.”
“I guess she’ll be all right, but it must be a great loss to her.”
“She’ll be all right,” Will said. “And she’ll outlive us all, little tiny thing that she is.”
On his drive back to the ranch Adam found that he was noticing things he had not seen for years. He saw the wildflowers in the heavy grass, and he saw the red cows against the hillsides, moving up the easy ascending paths and eating as they went. When he came to his own land Adam felt a quick pleasure so sharp that he began to examine it. And suddenly he found himself saying aloud in rhythm with his horse’s trotting feet, “I’m free, I’m free. I don’t have to worry any more. I’m free. She’s gone. She’s out of me. Oh, Christ Almighty, I’m free!”
He reached out and stripped the fur from the silver-gray sage beside the road, and when his fingers were sticky with the sap he smelled the sharp penetrating odor on his fingers, breathed it deep into his lungs. He was glad to be going home. He wanted to see how the twins had grown in the two days he had been gone—he wanted to see the twins.
“I’m free, she’s gone,” he chanted aloud.
2
Lee came out of the house to meet Adam, and he stood at the horse’s head while Adam climbed down from the buggy.
“How are the boys?” Adam asked.
“They’re fine. I made them some bows and arrows and they went hunting rabbits in the river bottom. I’m not keeping the pan hot though.”
“Everything all right here?”
Lee looked at him sharply, was about to exclaim, changed his mind. “How was the funeral?”
“Lots of people,” Adam said. “He had lots of friends. I can’t get it through my head that he’s gone.”
“My people bury them with drums and scatter papers to confuse the devils and put roast pigs instead of flowers on the grave. We’re a practical people and always a little hungry. But our devils aren’t very bright. We can outthink them. That’s some progress.”
“I think Samuel would have liked that kind of funeral,” said Adam. “It would have interested him.” He noticed that Lee was staring at him. “Put the horse away, Lee, and then come in and make some tea. I want to talk to you.”
Adam went into the house and took off his black clothes. He could smell the sweet and now sickish odor of rum about himself. He removed all of his clothes and sponged his skin with yellow soap until the odor was gone from his pores. He put on a clean blue shirt and overalls washed until they were soft and pale blue and lighter blue at the knees where the wear came. He shaved slowly and combed his hair while the rattle of Lee at the stove sounded from the kitchen. Then he went to the living room. Lee had set out one cup and a bowl of sugar on the table beside his big chair. Adam looked around at the flowered curtains washed so long that the blossoms were pale. He saw the worn rugs on the floor and the brown path on the linoleum in the hall. And it was all new to him.
When Lee came in with the teapot Adam said, “Bring yourself a cup, Lee. And if you’ve got any of that drink of yours, I could use a little. I got drunk last night.”
Lee said, “You drunk? I can hardly believe it.”
“Well, I was. And I want to talk about it. I saw you looking at me.”
“Did you?” asked Lee, and he went to the kitchen to bring his cup and glasses and his stone bottle of ng-ka-py.
He said when he came back, “The only times I’ve tasted it for years have been with you and Mr. Hamilton.”
“Is that the same one we named the twins with?”
“Yes, it is.” Lee poured the scalding green tea. He grimaced when Adam put two spoonfuls of sugar in his cup.
Adam stirred his tea and watched the sugar crystals whirl and disappear into liquid. He said, “I went down to see her.”
“I thought you might,” said Lee. “As a matter of fact I don’t see how a human man could have waited so long.”
“Maybe I wasn’t a human man.”
“I thought of that too. How was she?”
Adam said slowly, “I can’t understand it. I can’t believe there is such a creature in the world.”
“The trouble with you Occidentals is that you don’t have devils to explain things with. Did you get drunk afterward?”
“No, before and during. I needed it for courage, I guess.”
“You look all right now.”