The Saints of Swallow Hill(36)

She said, “Sounds fine to me.”

“We got living quarters for men who ain’t married that way. I got fifty-cent or dollar spots.”

“I’ll take a fifty-cent one. I ain’t choosy.”

He said, “Get what all you need from the commissary. We pay in scrips.”

Rae Lynn didn’t say anything about not needing scrips. Best to not let on she had some money.

He said, “You can stay at number forty-four. If it ain’t to your liking and you want you a dollar spot, let me know.”

She said, “Okay.”

“Listen. We’re setting dead center of thousands of acres. Make sure you don’t get yourself lost out there in them woods. People been known to get gone in the swamp. Gators, water moccasin, wild boar can all be trouble to you. Pay’s seventy-five cents a day. That good?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

He shoved a piece of paper across the desk and said, “Sign here. This says you agree to that, where you’re staying, and who’s your boss man. You can park your truck under the lean-to over yonder. Tell Weasel over to the distillery I said it’s all right.”

She printed her name where he’d put an X, knowing her cursive was too nice for a man’s writing. She was careful to put a y instead of the e, becoming Ray Cobb to him. He took it back, and she allowed him to mangle her hand again. She went out and pulled the truck under the lean-to like he directed, then gathered her things and began making her way to number forty-four. It felt good to stretch her legs some. After a while, right when she believed she might be lost, she passed by the man she’d seen earlier. He sat on his porch cramming Spanish moss into a mattress. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she was intent on minding her own business. Spot number forty-four ended up beside him, and too close, in her opinion. No privacy whatsoever.

Climbing the short set of steps, she wasn’t done in by the terrible condition of the dwelling, but more about what she and Warren would be doing right now if all was as it should be. She felt tears coming on, and held them in. She swiped at her eyes, before scrutinizing the tiny porch, which was covered with dirt. There was an old, worn chair for sitting outside, a dusty, empty bottle by one leg, and not much else. She set her things down and pushed against the door. It seemed stuck. She bumped her shoulder against it and it popped open. She went inside and immediately backed out.

With her hand over the lower half of her face to mask the smell, she scrutinized the small, single room, her new home. The sun had set and a weak light spilling in from two tiny windows made things hard to see, but one thing was certain, it sure smelled bad. Her home with Warren had been old, and showed signs of wear and tear, but it had been clean. This place, though, built to accommodate workers of the camp, had the appearance and stench of having been put here at the beginning of time. There were stains on the walls of questionable origins. The floor was planked but covered with dirt, like the porch. The unidentifiable fusty scent could have come from it being closed up for a while, plus the heat of the day, but she detected overlying odors of rancid grease and the unwashed left-behind dishes stacked on a rustic wooden shelf, encrusted with a mysterious black mold. A dull, dingy mattress was situated on what appeared to be a bedframe built into the wall of one corner.

Disheartened at the awful condition, it took her a moment to realize she was itching on her calves. She yanked a coverall leg up and saw black dots. She stomped her feet and began smacking her hands over her legs. Fleas, and no telling what else. She was still preoccupied with this when she heard a voice.

“Almost slept in the woods my first night. Would’ve been better maybe, ’cept there’s chiggers, skeeters, and snakes out there too. Reckon it wouldn’t have mattered much, in hindsight.”

Rae Lynn spun around and saw the mattress stuffer. He was at her fence, leaning on it, hat tipped back to reveal a pale forehead in comparison to the rest of his face, hair longish, cheeks and chin bearded. To her mind’s eye he was the saddest-looking feller she’d ever laid eyes on, but she didn’t know him, so maybe this was his natural expression. He was an odd-looking one. No, not odd. Interesting. His eyes were so pale blue she almost couldn’t hardly make out the difference between the irises and the whites. Aware she’d been staring too long, she turned to consider the grimy porch.

He said, “It took some getting used to.”

Rae Lynn nodded, but that was it. She wasn’t inclined toward being friendly. She’d only come up with this idea a couple days ago, had already seen how being Ray Cobb was rather exhausting, always having to watch what she said and how she said it. Having to watch how she walked. Not mess with her hair. Not forget the voice she was supposed to speak in. He stuck his hand out despite her lack of response.

He said, “Name’s Delwood Reese. Folks call me Del.”

She stayed where she was and jammed her hands into her pockets.

She tipped her chin up and grumbled her name, “Ray Cobb.”

He put his arm down, and he said, “Where you from?”

“South Carolina.”

“Which job did you take on?”

“Don’t know yet.”

She wished he’d leave her alone. She should’ve gone inside, no matter how bad it was.

He said, “Who you working for?”

Speaking in the unnatural tone she didn’t trust, she said, “Ballard.”