The Saints of Swallow Hill(72)

Crow and Woodall glanced at each other.

Crow said, “My men make their counts.”

Woodall said, “Mine too.”

Peewee stared at Crow. “The other day, a couple of yours didn’t make’em, Sweeney.”

“I took care of the problem too.”

Peewee said, “Now, you think about that. They didn’t make numbers ’cause you already whipped on’em over something else entirely different. Ain’t you noticed they can’t work proper when they all tore up, or if you stick’em in the box? Don’t think I don’t know what goes on around here. I’ll tell you this. If you’d a killed that gal, you’d be outta here. See’n as how you didn’t, you’re still here, but that could change.”

Crow’s voice was tight. “Oh. I see. We’re gonna go soft on’em now. Let’em do what they want.”

Peewee said, “Ain’t nobody saying that. There’s gonna be some changes, though. From here on out, ain’t nobody going in that sweatbox lessen I say so. Ain’t nobody getting whipped lessen I say so. We’re trying a different way. His way.” He pointed at Del, and asked him, “What do you do if someone ain’t getting their numbers?”

“Dock their pay.”

“It works?”

“Ain’t had to do it but once.”

Peewee said to Crow and Woodall, “That’s the new way round here.”

Crow said, “Hell, you hog-tying us. You think telling’em they ain’t getting their money’s gonna make’m work harder; you watch and see they don’t turn even more lazy. He’s a damn fool he thinks his way’s gonna last. I know how they are. They gonna turn into no-account shirkers, you wait and see.”

Peewee’s voice went sharp. “I’m telling you how it is, and if you can’t abide by it, you can leave. That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Crow looked away, his expression lifeless, while Woodall spit out a stream of tobacco juice and shrugged. This decision by Peewee caught Del off guard. Peewee seemed reluctant to say anything when he’d come to him, pointing out that Rae Lynn had lived, and how Crow was a good woods rider, how he couldn’t afford to lose him. Maybe he’d only been biding his time for the right opportunity.

Peewee eyed all of them as if daring anyone to argue some more, then continued. “Now. As to the next crops. We’ll be working the areas due east, starting tomorrow morning.”

Crow came back to life. “Woodall, you best be sure them coon hounds is fed good and rested up. Looks like we might get us a chance to go hunting.”

Woodall said, “Hell, they was born ready. They sure do like that two-legged variety the best.”

Peewee wagged a finger. “Ain’t nobody running. Ain’t nobody gonna need no hounds.”

Crow and Woodall exchanged a shrewd look, but Peewee ignored them and finished up.

“Wagons will show up earlier tomorrow at five o’clock since it’s a little farther out from camp. And y’all be sure and get them fires going soon as possible since we’ll be right next to the swamp.”

He turned his horse around and trotted off down the path. Meanwhile, Clyde, who’d been quiet the entire time, clucked his tongue at Jackson. Del tugged on Ruby’s rein to follow Clyde when Crow called out to him.

“Hey!”

Del pulled up, waiting to hear what dumb thing he had to say. Woodall wore a little grin while he slouched in his saddle, sucking on his teeth.

Crow came close to Del, and said, “You think you know it all, don’t you? First day you showed up, telling me what you was hired to do, I said it to myself, now there’s a nigra lover.” Crow pointed at Del and spoke to Woodall. “I’m telling you, I can spot one a mile away. Can’t you, Woodall?”

Woodall said, “Why sure. I seen it too. Ain’t no doubt.”

Crow said, “Tell you what else I know. I know somebody’s been hanging around the commissary a lot, acting interested in that Cobb character. I can’t hardly imagine why a woman would go and do something like’at, can you, Woodall?”

“Naw, sure can’t. Real curious, ain’t it?”

Crow leaned his head back so his eyes were slits. “You interested in her, him, whatever it is?”

Coincidentally, a crow flew overhead, emitting a raucous cawing, and received a distant response from another perched at the top of a tall longleaf pine, and meanwhile, Del considered what he was about to say. He figured he ought to keep his mouth shut, but he chose to speak.

He said, “I’d say it’s better’n being mama’s little boy, I know that much.”

Woodall made a choking sound, and Crow flushed a deep red. Even as Del lit the fire he was sure burned in Crow’s belly for revenge, he didn’t much care.

Crow said, “What in hell are you talking about?”

“I seen you the other night. The both of you. You and . . .”

Del couldn’t resist clapping his hands together, mimicking the sound he’d heard. He never thought he’d see Crow speechless. Crow yanked his horse around, kicked its sides, and rode off.

Woodall watched his departure, and said, “Reckon you done it now. If I was you, I’d sleep with that shotgun real handy.”

Woodall clucked at his horse and followed Crow. Del was only vaguely worried, and more than a bit smug. He’d finally one-upped the son of a gun, and he rode back to camp enjoying that fact. After he situated Ruby in her stall, he left the barn and made his way to his house. There was no sign of movement over to Crow’s and for that he was grateful. Inside, he grabbed a pair of scissors Mrs. Ballard must have left behind, his razor, and after pumping water into a pan, he stood on the back porch, facing a mirror hung on a post. He began snipping off his beard. It was long overdue. He’d been letting it grow ever since he’d wandered the South Georgia woods and it was too hot, plus his face itched. As he trimmed, he wondered about Rae Lynn’s hair, how it looked longer. She’d not done such a bad job cutting it, if that’s how it got so short. He got to thinking about her cutting his, and this led him to ruminating on her being close, her skin colored like golden syrup, her green eyes like newly sprung grass, her soft breasts within inches of his face as she bent down to run her fingers through....