For you.
Yes.
You're offering me a king of bargain?
You said it was your business.
There are bargains in business.
Just tell him.
And good business in bargains.
Both of us are tired. I'm sorry — you know — to have bothered — with you so sick, you know — but you can see I had to — you can see how it is. You were quick to wonder yourself when I told you that I'd found him.
Furber let his head wobble on his neck.
We — Lucy and me — the girls — we aren't used to living by the side of people. I guess that's it. Lucy thought the girls ought, well, to meet — you know — though neither Angela or Eleanor seems to care about that — well — perhaps in time you learn how…
Furber hugged a pillow in his lap.
I thought the weather would be fine for the boy, too, you know, and the excitement of the river. . I didn't figure right.
And so there'll be a covenant between us.
We'll be going… when Henry's down and buried. That would be right. Are there people living all along the river? If we went south could we find an open piece of woods there?
I'm to convince them, then you'll go, is that it? Where will you be? here?
Oh no. Amos has a cold. . something. Let them come by, it's on the way. It'll have to be tomorrow — morning would be wisest — an early start. It's supper time now, and dark.
Supper time.
Tomorrow's time enough.
Time enough. It's dark, you say?
I'll sure be grateful.
It's the business of the minister… to intercede.
Well—
My Aunt Janet was a different sort of suicide.
Golly. I'm sorry.
Furber put the pillow beside him. Golly. Old Aunt Janet. Who threw herself from a shelf made of wicker. What points had she thought to consider, the pros and cons of death and life? He turned inside and recognized at once the passage of the belly, the traverse of the loins, the navigation of the thigh. Now folks, we've reached, in here, the cathedral of the thorax, a natural cavern. No rare woods here, no perfumed wine, no choirs of boys, but Bael with the head of a man and a spider's body, cat and toad growing out of his neck, commanding forty-six legions of devils; Behemoth, full stomached as Omensetter's wife had been with her skin like shining satin, but otherwise an elephant devouring grass like the oxen, his whole strength in his loins and his virtue fitted in the button of his belly, commanding thrice seven regiments of furies; Astaroth, the ugly angel, vulgarly astride a dragon, leading forty legions; Forcas on a donkey; Marchocias vomiting; Buer in a wheel of hooves revolving; Asmodeus; Theutus; Incubus — demon after demon drawn delightfully by Angelo, who made God's finger like an amorous engine for the Vatican. What he really needed was a year abroad to study painting.
Do you know very well the words of Jeremiah?
Furber rose as he spoke.
Omensetter shook his head.
I used a text of his for the first sermon I preached in this church.
Omensetter smiled politely. It was hot then.
—
Furber pulled his nightgown about him.
And very dry. We had a terrible fire. Burning trees fell in the river.
—
Furber sighed.
A catastrophe.
What was Henry's reason; do you have any idea?
Omensetter shrugged.
He was happy when I saw him last, Omensetter said. We'd been to the hill and he was resting on a log. I don't know. It was a good day.
Furber smiled.
A good day. Well then no reason.
You'll tell Chamlay?
“Take ye heed every one of his neighbor, and trust ye not in any brother." That's Jeremiah.
Gee.
You'll be cold with just a jacket.
You can convince him? You'll have no trouble?
Shapes were crowding toward Furber's eyes. "For death is come up into our windows…"
Oh, he said, Chamlay? and he waved his hand airily. That will be easy, never fear; it will be easy for me.
8
Eight came by horseback with a wagon, hurrying against a late sun already weakened by its clouds. Chamlay came, and Olus Knox, Jethro Furber, Israbestis Tott, Hawkins with the Hatstats, George and Menger, then Stitt somehow — all ahead of Milo Bencher's wagon. It was a strong wagon, though small; one that could be jounced over meadows and got between trees. The men could see Omensetter peering through the window when they arrived, wiping back the glass with his hand. As they entered the yard Omensetter rushed from the house to shout — the boy is sick — turning from man to man as he did so, trotting anxiously along. His face was pale, bearded; there were bubbles on his lips which popped when he spoke.
Damn near dark, Chamlay said. We got to move. The boy is sick — the baby's sick.
Gray and frantic, Omensetter moved from man to man while the dog ran quickly around him.
Was what you said to Furber true?
The horses were nervous. The dog plunged through Omensetter's legs and the horses turned, their hoofs destroying patches of snow.
It's all true, yes. But I thought you'd be here this morning.
Disappointed, Omensetter turned to Furber.
Didn't you—
Hey's it true? what did he say?
Yes, Yes, Omensetter shouted, yes, it's true.
We've got no time then; it's no job for the dark.
Going to come hard, Knox said, peering at the sky.
Omensetter wound his fingers in the mane of Chamlay's horse.
Was what you said to Furber true?
Better of been, said Hawkins. I shut the store. It's going to hit thick. Let's move.
Where's Mat?
Who?
Mat? He didn't come.
Christ, Brackett, come on — you got something to ride? He's got that horse.
He's got a horse all right.
Will this cart-assed wagon make it, Menger asked.
Come on, can we ride these horses in, or will we have to walk?
Told Furber a lot of cock, I bet — a lot of shit.
Better not of.
Christ, come on — it's going to turn on cold.
The baby's sick.
Omensetter blotted his nose.
Well, you should find him easy if I tell you how, but you can't take your horses in, or any wagon either — not all the way.
The horses tightened about him until the dog barked from between Omensetter's feet. Then the horses shied but the men reined close again, leaning heavily from their saddles.
We've got no time, Chamlay said. We're getting old with this waiting.
It's going to snow — just look at that — we're due. We're going to get it good.
Well, you know that long white log there by the creek, Omensetter said. All right, go straight—
Chamlay interrupted with a meaningless shout of anger and instantly the others were shouting too, leaning close around him yelling until Lucy came running out of the house, the girls behind her weeping brokenly, so that the dog in a frenzy leaped at Hawkins and Hawkins sprawled him with a blow.
He's throwing up again, Brackett — awful — an awful something — he can't breathe.
Omensetter broke out of the circle and ran heavily into the house.
Quickly, in tight aimless patterns, the horses moved. The men rubbed their noses high on their sleeves and watched their streaming mouths. The dog crouched, ears flat, threats shaking in his throat. The horses backed and turned and reared and Stitt cursed when he scraped his leg on Milo Bencher's wagon.
Knox dismounted.
It's nothing to fret about I'm sure, he said. I've seen this often; the least little thing will put them off.
Lucy's way was blocked by the Hatstats' horses and she vainly tried to go around them.
We've other children too, she said, pushing against the horses. I've had kids sick before, but never — Please!
George winked at his brother.