The Saints of Swallow Hill(42)

Crow said, “Crying. I’ll be damned.”

Rae Lynn muttered, “Ain’t crying.”

Ballard’s voice came from behind her. “What’s going on here? ”

Crow said, “All he’s done for several minutes is worry over a speck a dust in his eye.”

Ballard got off his horse, came around to look at her, then said, “Here, use some a this.”

She angled her head, saw with the one good eye he held out a canteen. She went over to him and took it.

He said, “Try rinsing it out.”

Rae Lynn leaned her head back, attempting to do as he suggested, but most of the water ran down her cheek. She sneezed. Ballard approached her.

“Tilt your head back again,” and she did as he said.

He slowly poured a thin stream into the corner of her eye while grabbing her chin to hold her head steady. His hand felt hot, and dry.

She rubbed at her eye, and he said, “Naw, don’t, let the water wash it out.”

He stopped, and Rae Lynn blinked and blinked. The water made her eye feel sticky and rough. She sneezed again. Crow mumbled something under his breath. Ballard ignored him, and Rae Lynn flapped her hand at him to pour more water. It felt like a piece of metal in there. Tilting her head back, he did so while Crow snickered.

Ballard said, “What the hell’s so funny?”

“You playing nursemaid. That’s what’s funny. You ain’t a pansy, are you, Ballard? I don’t know which I can’t stand the most. A pansy, a shirker, or a nigra lover. What’s the world coming to?”

Rae Lynn blinked again. The piece of wood or whatever it was, was still there, but she pulled her chin out of Ballard’s hand.

Speaking in a low tone, she said, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Ballard ignored Crow’s taunt and said, “Good. You can work?”

In response, Rae Lynn went back to the tree, raised the puller, and began scraping while her eye continued to stream. Despite the discomfort, she only wanted them to leave her be. She didn’t want to cause no trouble, or bring any more attention to herself.

She finished making her scrapes and said, “Tar Heel.”

Ballard said, “See, only took a few seconds and good as new.”

Crow said, “He won’t make quota.”

“It ain’t the end of the day yet.”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

Ballard dug a dirty rag out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.

He said, “Maybe you ought to tend to your own while I tend to mine.”

Rae Lynn began chipping at the next tree. God bless Ballard. She really needed to make a showing, especially since he kept defending her.

He was back on his horse and called out to her. “Good?”

She nodded.

“All right, then.”

They left, and she could hear Crow arguing, his voice rising above Ballard’s, and that soon faded. Glad for the peace, now there was nothing to hear but the scrape of her tool and the distant shouts mingled in with her own.

Despite her best effort, she didn’t make her numbers. Her eye gave her a fit, burning and running nonstop the rest of the afternoon, and she couldn’t hardly see what she’d done. It felt like it was on fire, and so she ended up short by two hundred trees. Her not meeting her count caused another stir between Ballard and Crow at quitting time, with both men arguing until Peewee was brought into the discussion as soon as they arrived back in camp.

Crow pointed at her and said, “He needs to know what happens when he can’t get the work done.”

Ballard said, “He’s got good reason to miss trees. Look at it. That eye a his looks like a damn tomato.”

Crow turned to Peewee. “He ain’t made quota since he got here.”

Ballard threw his hand out toward Rae Lynn, and said, “He would’ve today if not for that.”

Peewee sucked on a cigar, eyes darting between the two woods riders. Rae Lynn stood by the wagon. She crossed her arms, then dropped them. Finally, she shoved her hands into her pockets.

He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, and said, “I know what all’s going on here.”

Peewee gestured at her in a way she didn’t like while swirling his tongue around his teeth to dislodge a piece of tobacco.

He spit on the ground. “He ain’t who he says he is.”

Ballard said, “What’s that?”

Peewee said, “He ain’t no man.”

Rae Lynn’s heart rate skyrocketed. By God, he knows. Del Reese and the other men who worked for Crow were listening too, and every head turned toward her.

Peewee started nodding, as if he was growing more confident. “Naw. A man could make his numbers, if’n he’s fit and all.”

Should she confess? What would happen if she did? She hadn’t thought about how she would explain herself if she was found out.

Peewee said, “Hell, he can’t be more’n fifteen, maybe sixteen. Ain’t it right, boy? I ’spected it when you first showed up. Come on now. How old is you?”

Rae Lynn’s muscles went slack with relief. It was a question of age versus her sex. This she could handle.

Crow said, “I always said there won’t something right about him.”

Rae Lynn spoke in a deliberately gruff, snide tone.