The Saints of Swallow Hill(38)

Cobb, voice tight, pointed to the material and said, “How much?”

Otis said, “Huh?”

Cobb repeated himself. “How much did that dress material cost?”

“More’n you got, I can assure you!”

The kid pulled some cash from his overalls and waited. Otis’s eyes grew big at the site of a fistful of paper money, and so did Del’s.

Deceitful, calculating, Otis said, “Three dollars.”

Cobb thumbed through the bills. Del couldn’t believe it as he counted out three one-dollar bills and laid them in a row on the counter in front of Otis. Three whole dollars and then some riding around in his pocket. How did anybody come to have that kind a money when nobody around here hardly had two nickels to rub together? Cobb pocketed the gun along with the rest of the money.

He said, “She can make her dress now, if she’s able to after you done gone and ruined perfectly good material. It sure don’t seem real smart since it was costing you. We got a witness you been paid.”

Del said, “That’s right.”

He sure was impressed with the kid, curious too. Cornelia eyed Cobb with distrust. Cobb’s own back was rigid, eyes narrowed at Otis, not paying her any mind, waiting to see what Otis aimed to do.

Otis said, “Well, ain’t you Mr. High-and-Mighty?”

Even as he said it, he scraped the bills off the counter faster than a robber holding up a bank.

He stuffed them into his front pocket and said, “Now, get the hell out of my store.” To Cornelia, “And you. You get on to the house and you best be getting me my supper, and be quick about it, or else.”

Cornelia moved toward the material, and Otis snatched her arm when she was close enough.

Cobb said, “Hey!”

Otis ignored him and said, “And don’t you go getting all highfalutin ’cause a this.”

He let her go, and Cornelia carefully gathered the cloth and held on to it, shivering like she had a small earthquake going on from within. It was so pronounced, her teeth chattered. Clutching the material, she carefully made her way out of the store.

Cobb followed her out, and while Del needed to get what he came for, he didn’t feel like hearing Otis run his mouth. He left too, Otis’s taunt trailing after them all.

“Yeah, y’all go on and get the hell out.”

Outside, the day was ending at Swallow Hill. Greetings were shouted, and there was even laughter. Mixed in came the thunk of wood being chopped, the scent of supper pots simmering where maybe a bit of meat had been tossed in, if one was lucky. Someone sang a song. Soon the juke joint would get to going. To Del, the sights and sound of the camp appeared innocuous, nonthreatening, but he was becoming aware of an undercurrent, more apparent the longer he was there. It was all a smokescreen, like stepping in quicksand. That was what the camp was, quicksand. The more you struggled to free yourself, the deeper you went. Like the grain bin.

Disconcerted by his thoughts, Del turned his attention to Cobb and Cornelia, who’d crossed her arms and was in the process of confronting the small man.

She said, “I reckon you think I owe you now. If you think that’s the case, you can forget it.”

Cobb said, “What? No!”

Del frowned. Cobb’s voice had changed again. He’d bet he wasn’t more than sixteen, could be younger. He didn’t even have any whiskers yet; his face was smooth as warm butter.

Cornelia said, “I’m paying you back. I take in some outside work now and again, sewing and whatnot, so it might take a while, but I ain’t looking to be indebted to nobody else. Just don’t be getting no ideas my debt will be paid off in some other form.”

Cobb said, “You ain’t got to pay me back. You don’t owe me nothing.”

Cornelia sniffed, disbelief showing in how she rolled her eyes, and with her arms still filled with the pretty dress material, she made her way toward her small house.

Del stared after her, before turning to Cobb. “Where’d you say you’re from?”

Cobb mumbled, “South Carolina.”

“What did you do before here?”

“Turpentining.”

“In a camp?”

Cobb stared off into the distance as if he didn’t want to answer.

Finally, he said, “It was a small operation.”

“But ain’t you using the call name Tar Heel? That ain’t South Carolina. That’s the Old North State. It’s where I’m from.”

One of Cobb’s eyes twitched, and he offered no explanation. He sure was suspicious acting. Could be he was a runaway. Might have stolen that money he had, them boots too. For all Del knew, Cobb could be wearing the very clothes of a dead man, one he’d killed and took his money.

Cobb said, “If you don’t mind, I got things to do.”

Del raised a hand and let it drop in a dismissive fashion. “Yeah, me too. Although I’d come to get me a few supplies, and now I reckon if I go back in there, Otis ain’t gonna be inclined to sell me nothing tonight.”

Cobb inspected the ground, before lifting his gaze to Del, eyes wary. Del hadn’t intended to put him on the spot. When Cobb sighed, Del decided he wasn’t that hungry. He might have a biscuit or two in the cupboard somewhere.

He said, “I’ll make do,” and walked away.