Wish You Well(87)

"Got me a good list right chere." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and laid it on

the counter. McKenzie did not look at it.

"I'll need cash up front," he said, finally letting his beard alone.

Eugene stared at the man. "But we good on our 'count. All paid up, suh."

Now McKenzie eyed the paper. "Lot of stuff on that list. Can't carry you for that much."

"So's we bring you crop. Barter."

"No. Cash."

"Why can't we get credit?" asked Lou.

"Hard times," replied McKenzie.

Lou looked around at the piles of supplies and goods everywhere. 'Times look pretty

good to me."

McKenzie slid back the list. "I'm sorry."

"But we's got to have a barn," said Eugene. "Winter come fast and we ain't keep the

animals out. They die."

"The animals we have left" said Lou, glaring some more at the still staring faces.

A man equal in size to Eugene approached from the rear of the store. Lou knew him to be

McKenzie's son-in-law, who was no doubt looking forward, she figured, to inheriting this

good business one day when McKenzie squinted his last.

"Look here, Hell No," said the man, "you got your answer, boy."

Before Lou could say a word, Eugene stepped directly in front of the man. "You knowed

that ain't never been my name. It be Eugene Randall. And don't you never call me nuthin'

else." The big man appeared stunned, and he took a step back. Lou and Oz exchanged

glances and then looked proudly upon their friend.

Eugene stared down each of the customers in the store, ostensibly, Lou thought, to make

clear that this statement applied to all of them as well.

Rollie McKenzie called out, "I'm sorry for that, Eugene. It won't never happen again."

Eugene nodded at McKenzie and then told the children to come on. They went outside

and climbed on the wagon. Lou was shaking with anger. "It's that gas company. They've

scared everybody. Turned people against us."

Eugene took up the reins. "It be all right. We think'a somethin'."

Oz cried out, "Eugene, wait a minute." He jumped down from the wagon and ran back

inside.

"Mr. McKenzie? Mr. McKenzie?" Oz called out, and the old man came back to the

counter, blinking and picking at his beard.

Oz plopped his mitts and ball on the curled maple planks. "Will this buy us a barn?"

McKenzie stared at the child, and the old man's lips trembled some, and his blinking eyes

grew moist through the heft of glass. "You go on home, boy. You go on home now."

They cleared all the debris from the remains of the barn and collected all the nails, bolts,

and usable wood that they could from the ruins. Cotton, Eugene, and the children stood

and stared at the meager pile.

"Not much there," said Cotton.

Eugene looked at the surrounding forests. "Well, we got us lot of wood, and it all free,

'cept the sweat of felling it."

Lou pointed to the abandoned shack her father had written about. "And we can use stuff

from there," she said, then looked at Cotton and smiled. They had not spoken since Lou's

outburst, and she was feeling badly about it. "Maybe make us a miracle," she added.

"Well, let's get to work," said Cotton.

They tore down the shack and salvaged what they could. Over the next several days they

cut down trees with an ax and a crosscut saw that had been in the corn-crib and thus had

escaped the fire. They pulled out the felled trees with the mules and chains. Fortunately,

Eugene was a first-rate, if self-taught, carpenter. They topped off the trees and stripped

the bark, and using a square and a measuring tape, Eugene cut marks in the wood

showing where notches needed to be chiseled. "Ain't got 'nough nails, so's we got to

make do. Notch and strap the joints best we can, mud chink 'tween. When we get mo'

nails, we do the job right."

"What about the corner posts?" asked Cotton. "We don't have any mortar to set them in."

"Ain't got to. Dig the holes deep, way below the cold line, crack up the rock, pack it in

good and hard. It hold. I give us some extra hep at the corners with the braces. You see."

"You're the boss," said Cotton with an encouraging smile.

Using a pick and shovel, Cotton and Eugene dug one hole. It was tough going against the

hard ground. Their cold breath filled the air, and their gloved hands ached with the raw.

While they were doing this, Oz and Lou chiseled out and hand-drilled the notches and

insertion holes on the posts where timber mortise would meet timber tenon. Then they

mule-dragged one of the posts to the hole and realized they had no way to get it in there.

Try as they might, from every angle, and with every conceivable leverage, and with big