Outer Dark(20)

How far is it to where you’re goin? Holme said.

Three or four mile. Tain’t far.

What brings you up thisaway?

I come over to hive a swarm of bees for a man.

Holme nodded. I guess you traded it out in that there whiskey, he said.

I won that whiskey on a bet, the man said. Hivin em with no beeface and no smoker.

You get stung?

I ain’t never been stung, the man said.

I reckon you’ve worked a good bit with bees.

Some, he said. He swung the coat in a capelike arc about him and hung it over the other shoulder. Some, he said again. He pursed his lips and blew, as if wearied. How far is it to where you’re goin?

I don’t know, Holme said. Just to this here town I reckon.

The beehiver looked at him sideways and away again. Or do ye not know where it is you’re a-goin?

I don’t know, Holme said.

Why are ye goin then?

Goin where?

The beehiver didn’t answer. After a while he said: Well, say to that clump of sumac yander, pointing minutely with one finger from the hand that held his coat.

I’m lookin for my sister, Holme said.

That right? Where’s she at?

Holme watched the dry sand welt under his new boots. If I knowed, he said, I’d not have to look.

The beehiver ignored this. He was looking about him. They passed the sumacs and he said: I don’t see her.

Holme looked at him dully. After a while the man swung down his coat again and this time he brought forth the bottle. Drink? he said.

All right.

He handed the bottle across without looking. Holme took it and paused in the middle of the road with his feet spread, watching above the cone of bright glass receding from his face the slow wheel of a hawk. The man watched him. When he was done he held out the bottle and the man drank and stowed it again in his pocket and they went on.

How far you come? the man said.

Pretty good piece. I don’t know … I was over in Johnson County some.

Never been thew Cheatham though?

Not to recollect it I ain’t.

You would recollect it.

Is that right?

That is right. He kicked with his toe the flat dried shell of a wheelcrushed toad. They got the awfullest jail in the state.

I ain’t never been in jail, Holme said.

You ain’t never been in Cheatham.

Holme put his hands in the bib of his overalls.

What trade do ye follow? the man said.

I ain’t got nary.

The man nodded.

I can work, Holme said. I ain’t no slack hand.

You aim to hunt work in Cheatham?

I’d studied it.

He nodded again. They went on. They forded a small branch and the beehiver bent and scooped a palmful of water at his face and whoofed and shook his head. He ran one hand through his hair and then down the side of his breeches to dry it.

How much further is it? Holme said.

Tain’t far.

You reckon this here water is fit to drink?

It’s old swampwater, he said.

I’m kindly takin a thirst.

The beehiver smiled his little smile and slung the coat upon his shoulder again and they went on.



They entered the town in the early afternoon. A small town of clustered frame buildings that sat plumbless and unpainted in the glary heat and listed threatfully. There did not appear to be anyone about.

They ain’t much of anybody around, is they? Holme said.

Not much.

Whichaway do you go?

I go straight on thew.

They walked down the shaded side of the square and the upper windows watched them with wrinkled sun-stricken glass.

You don’t know where I might ast about work do ye? Holme said.

The beehiver nodded toward the buildings along which they passed. You might try the store. See if anybody knows. Other’n that I cain’t help ye.

All right, Holme said. Thank ye.

I don’t think you’ll thank me.

Holme had stopped but the man did not turn. Nor look, nor gesture a farewell. He diminished down the road and out of the square, swung the coat once again to his other shoulder and was gone.

Holme went on up the walkway loudly in his boots until he came to the Cheatham Mercantile. He peered through the window into the dust and gloom but he couldn’t see anyone about. When he tried the door it opened and he entered cautiously. A clerk sprang up from the counter where he had been sleeping. Howdy, Holme said.

Yessir, said the clerk.

I wonder could I get a drink of water from ye.

Yessir. Right yonder in the box.

Thank ye, Holme said. He got the waterjug and drank until he could no longer breathe. He stood panting for a moment and then drank again.

Gets thirsty on a hot day don’t it? the clerk said.

Holme nodded. He put the lid on the jar and set it back in the cooler. Where’s everbody at? he said.

Lord I don’t know. Some kind of commotion over twards the church. They left out of here like a bunch of chickens. Had to go see whatever it was.