Old Enough | Chapter 5

Chapter 5
FAIRWELL WHITETAIL FARMS OPEN HOUSE
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The marshal went first. Neal held onto the banister and followed. Down is usually easier than up. Not always but usually. At the bottom of the stairs the marshal waited and they walked into the kitchen where Neal put his plate and glass on the counter, which he could reach fine. Okay, angel food delight fills you to the brim. Later he might try something different but now he wanted to be outside. Actually, he wanted to be with kids. Sometimes you want what you usually don't want and after Mr. Jasper and the matriarch, Neal wanted to be with the kids; yes he did.

So guess who was waiting to get in his face? Iris, naturally. If where you want to be is new and strange, you can get in big trouble and then where are you? Hey, if you want to meet a pushy girl, come to Milo, Missouri and meet Iris Kelly. That's where you are. Like Delaney before Trinity Clark showed up, Neal stood on one foot and then the other between the marshal and Mrs. Carver and watched through the window but he wasn't missing anything and neither were they. Hey, you can't miss Iris. First she had to show the Venable twins, Josh and Jeremy, where to pound in the stakes. Then she had to show Pete's little brother Roy where to place the wickets. Except for Delaney and Ham, Iris is the richest kid in Salt Lick County. To save money, she upends a bowl on her head and cuts her black hair with scissors. That's why her bangs are crooked. This might be all right if she didn't act so smart. She acts like she's the smartest person (person not kid!) in the world. Today she wore a black jogging suit like she was on a secret mission. Wur! As usual, her redheaded cousin, Bill Patton Jr., shuffled his feet behind her as though he didn't know what else to do. He probably didn't since a total doofus doesn't have a clue.

Okay, forget Iris. In a striped green and yellow lawn chair sat Alicia. Her white shorts, black and white crisscrossing top and bright red clogs to match her lips and nails made Neal's heart pound. Mrs. Carver's beautiful granddaughter turned the pages of her magazine while he dreamed of their future. Even dreaming, he likes to be real. He's not big on stories made up on purpose. When Miss Miller reads from the old books for children like Treasure Island, he might pretend to listen but actually he's off on his own. He does listen when she reads Harry Potter. Pete told him he'd better or Miss Miller would be upset and wonder what was wrong because you better listen to Harry Potter or there's something wrong with you and not her.

In Neal's life there are two beautiful girls or women or ladies or whatever: his mother and Alicia Russell. Also, his feelings for Alicia aren't the same as Delaney's feelings for Trinity Clark. No way. Okay, so maybe Alicia attends middle school but Neal will too before long. Maybe his feelings are the same. No, they aren't. He would never hang around Alicia with his eyes bugging out and his mouth open to catch flies. True, he rarely has a chance to hang around her with his mouth closed and his eyes as regular as possible. Alicia's mother visits once a summer and Alicia spends most of her time in Boonetown where they have rooms at the Island Hotel. Neal stopped thinking when he got to the center of the hotel thought; burying his head in the sand like an ostrich is what Aunt Ida says about this habit; oh, well.

He rarely gets to hang around her and his head might be in the sand but he sees Alicia with his brown or blue eye closed or both eyes shut tight as drums or full of sand. In his dreams or awake, he sees Alicia. Mariah says she ought to model clothes and she does look like she should be on TV. She has awesome braids, three silver rings in each ear and two big green-brown eyes with long lashes. Would she become a famous cook like her grandmother? Neal wouldn't mind that a bit; of course, he wouldn't mind if she became a rich stockbroker like her mother or, hey, he hopes not but if it has to be, so be it -- a criminal fugitive like her brother.

Bud was showing four-year-old Mona Russell how to use a mallet. Alicia's sister wasn't the youngest kid out there. The yard seemed more and more like a pretend yard in a movie. You can get tired of watching a movie but Neal couldn't move. He was stuck. Hey, he could rest his sore feet. If you can't move, don't fight it. If you can't move and your head's in the sand, you might as well get comfortable and watch while others take on the action. Sally Easily toddled behind Roy picking up wickets as soon as he pushed them into the dirt. Sally's only three. Ten-year old Darlene followed her baby sister and replaced the wickets. Darlene's nice even if she can't play ball. Cal and Shirley, the Easily twins who are only five and not in school but not bad for little kids, had their mallets ready and were listening to Bud. Except for Alicia, Bud's the oldest so he'll be the boss. Iris will just have to back off; maybe not now but eventually. Neal found himself again ready for R&R with kids and without grown-ups; even with Iris in the picture, he found himself way ready.

"I'm going out now," he said to the marshal. In the air floated that weird lifting sense that means you are free to go. He didn't tell the marshal he might put his boots in the van and go barefoot. What would Alicia think? Would she look at the blisters and feel sorry for him or call him a gross peanut whose naked feet stink?

"I was just speculating," said Mrs. Carver. "Funny, the three of us standing at the window considering the past, observing the future, apparently enjoying what we see. Things are better, I suppose. Wouldn't have happened 50 or 60 years ago."

"Seems to me there's no supposing about it," the marshal said; "right, agent?"

"Sure," Neal said with his hand on the doorknob; on the feet, he'd see how it went.

Things happened. Delaney came through the hall door dressed in gray slacks and a white shirt. His big silver belt buckle was engraved with FWF for the deer farm. Like Neal, he wore Express Riders, the boots for any and everything especially if the boots are new and fit. He put his arm around Neal's shoulder and stretched out a long leg for the room to admire. He nudged Neal to do the same. Well, you never do know and Neal sure was glad he'd left on his boots as he stuck out his least sore foot and everyone laughed like you hope people will when you're playing a game.

Delaney was buffed. He smelled like Aunt Ida's strong pine soap sprinkled with sugar. He wore a grand silver wrist watch. With Trinity Clark gone, Neal was happy to hang with his hero. They stuck out their other legs and feet and got claps. Next they strolled into the dining room where Mr. Jasper was showing off. First he'd talk, then point out the window. Did Mr. Jasper ever bore the B for business out of his grandson? He did Neal as he bragged on and on about all the things he'd done.

But the room smelled wonderful. Mrs. Carver is the best cook in the north end of the county. Just don't say this in front of Aunt Ida. It's funny how you get hungry again. The table against the wall was piled high with food. Neal let Delaney go first before using the giant silver forks and spoon to fill his plate with ham and cheese hunks and hot German potato salad. There were no cheesy grits but you can do without cheesy grits if you have other great stuff. In a small space by the ham, he set the bowl of cherry cobbler. He got utensils, napkin. The table was low. He could reach everything. Too bad he didn't live here, sort of. He concentrated on following Delaney without spilling. When he sat down and laid out his food, he didn't make a single mess. Life was good. He had no drink but no biggie. He wasn't really thirsty.

They were in the corner near the piano where the Melody Men were eating and drinking not singing although Mr. Watch had his mouth harp handy. Doc Oats, Farmer Pardee, Preacher Venable, Mr. Watch -- singing together for years. Maybe they would sing later today when people could hear. You couldn't hear now. Maybe Nurse Comfort would play. Aunt Ida says she played piano, Ham played organ, the Melody Men sang and Milo got glorious entertainment. Too bad Ham got different.

Neal couldn't see Trinity Clark anywhere. Have you ever wondered why nobody says too good? His mother and Aunt Ida stood next to Pete's folks. Neal wondered a little bit about his sister. It's a waste to wonder much about Mariah. Folding his legs like Delaney to make a lap, he tucked the napkin corner under the dumb tie clip. Ho! First he ate his ham. Next he tackled his potato salad that had a fine pickly taste after caramel and angel food delight, which, if you want to know, are sweet enough, except for cobbler, to last a long time even if you like sweets. After he finished his cobbler, he planned to ask Delaney about the Old Man's treats.

Ding! Ding! Mr. Jasper hit the side of his glass with a table knife and Neal jumped. He hadn't noticed how close they were to the old man. Oh, well. You can't have everything. Also, you can enjoy a good meal while you pretend to be listening.

Ding! Ding! "Attention! Folks, Horace Sykeston, my partner, can't be here but I speak for both of us and I tell everyone of you all that we are right proud of Fairwell Whitetail Farms. Deer business is good for Milo and Missouri." Mr. Jasper poured water into the glass he'd been dinging on. His hand shook. He let Mrs. Carver help him back to the kitchen. The room got way quiet after they left. Look out! Mayor Pride saw her chance to make a speech. She grabbed Lewis N. Clark by the arm; hey, the mayor loves him for an audience and he was within easy reach.

"All we need is your trust and a helping hand, Mr. Clark." Neal chowed down on yummy cherries and crust as he listened and watched the mayor. He always watches her when he hears her and he always hears her if she's anywhere near. "We're a forward looking town and a hardworking people." Like most people the mayor talks pretty much all the time but her voice is loud like thunder and covers the other voices and noises. Today her big hair and big round face were pink. She wore a red, white and blue jacket, white pants like two cylinders, a straw hat with campaign buttons on it and boots that made her as tall as Mr. Clark. Today the two of them were about the same size and sort of egg-shaped, top to bottom. But she was pushing and when the mayor pulled, Lewis N. Clark just might have to come.

Maybe not. He turned his slick brown head away from her. In his fancy, schmancy white suit, he squinted over his angel food delight and crinkled his eyes and scar. You could tell he would rather be with someone who would shut up and listen to him when he felt like talking and that wouldn't be until after he'd cleaned his plate. The room zinged with chewing and clinking and grown-up voices. Neal leaned forward for a bite. The mayor kept on at Mr. Clark. Mr. Watch left the Melody Men and angled around behind her. He didn't say anything so she didn't know he was there. He likes to have sport with the mayor and everyone likes it when he does because she makes people mad and she won't stop once she starts in on you. Mr. Watch says shenanigans even the fight. He says you do what you have to do, the rest is up to your sister Sue and having sport with the mayor is a basic right.

Look out! The mayor shifted and poked Mr. Clark in the chest. "I'm an Internet junkie myself, sir. I've done my fair share of homework on you. I understand you're a documented descendent of the esteemed William Clark and ask if this is true?"

"Answer up!" Mr. Watch mouthed this. He faced the rest of them. Neither the mayor nor Lewis N. Clark noticed. He danced and talked to his fists silently. He moved his mouth like Aunt Ida had taught Neal to do when he learned to fake sing. Everyone but the mayor and Mr. Clark watched Mr. Watch do what he was doing.

"There is no proof of that connection," shouted Trinity Clark. Okay, everyone but one and where did she come from? Also, why was she so excited? Her father didn't like it a bit. "Well, there isn't," she repeated. He looked madder than a wet hen. He might send Trinity Clark to her room for a year of time out and she'd be sorry then.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, missy." Ho! Double trouble! The mayor might tolerate sass from Lewis N. Clark but not from his daughter. "If it's true, it's something to be proud of. My goodness, William Clark did as much or more for the fine State of Missouri than Merriwether Lewis. You can ask absolutely anyone at all about this."

"Excuse me!" Trinity Clark didn't say please and then Delaney jumped right over Neal and took off after her. Through the window people watched them circle the weeping willow and sit together on the bench. Bud's grandfather had built the bench around the trunk for the matriarch. The bench will last longer than the tree, maybe longer than Neal but you need to concentrate on what really matters. Neal was too embarrassed for Delaney to care whether trees outlast people. He wanted to hide. Also, he wanted a drink. Manno, he was thirsty! There were too many people between him and the table. If only he'd gone out with the kids when he'd had the chance. They had lemonade and pop, he was sure of it. Now, when he left, he'd have to walk by the mayor who might grab him. No way could he risk this happening. He slid behind his mother instead. Sometimes you wait and he waited.

"No harm intended. Let's you and I move on, sir." The mayor didn't actually poke Lewis N. Clark. It was more of a jab but her finger didn't actually touch him. "Back to our discussion about Milo," she said, "we like to mix the old with the new. We proudly support a thriving Hispanic business. We are as progressive a community as you will find in the state. The future is the past and that's how we operate."

"Hah!" said Mrs. Sanchez to Neal's mother. She said it loud. Not as loud as the mayor but loud enough so some people turned to stare. Pete's mother didn't care. "Baloney!" she said. "You care to define thriving, Birdie? As for heritage, my husband's family first arrived in this country in 1846. Mine came from Cuba in 1950. Hispanic! Latino! Latina! I'm sick of population inventories! I know one thing. We haven't quit working since we got here!" Neal's mother whispered to her. Arm and arm they left for the kitchen only sort of like Mrs. Carver and Mr. Jasper.

The mayor watched them go while she kept at Lewis N. Clark. "We have a school, museum and four churches," she told him. "It's true we don't have every creed and faith but we're adaptable and willing to adjust to special needs. In the meantime, only 13 miles from Milo on a well-maintained road is our county seat with two fine Catholic Churches, a synagogue and mosque. Halfway there you pass an Amish farm. We don't encourage home schooling. We tolerate it but believe children should be social creatures." The mayor, with no children of her own, had now chased Mr. Clark into a corner, leaving Aunt Ida, Judge Pride and Mr. Sanchez between Neal and the front door. Okay, he could tackle these hurdles. All he had to do was figure out where to ditch his plate, utensils, napkin and bowl. Manno!

"Lucifer take her with him," the judge said softly about the mayor who was his second wife; the very week after his first wife died, he'd met the mayor in St. Louis.

"Now, judge, after all it's her job to talk up the town and I for one completely agree with her about home schooling," said Doc Oats; he and Nurse Comfort must have been listening so maybe when the mayor's around, everyone just has to do this.

"I need to return to my charge," said Nurse Comfort. Okay, she was someone who didn't have to keep listening and could leave. For sure, grown-ups have an easier time going or coming when they want. Nurse Comfort put her plate on a table and left without one person getting in her way. A gate for every place you come or go might work, one where tickets cost the same for kids and everybody has to pay.

"Of course, there are exceptions to everything including home schooling. Take this household. They couldn't manage without Mary. I said that to Tom the other day." Doc Oats was talking to Mr. Watch. "They need her. Remember when Preacham used to play for us? Why, she got the greatest good out of that poor boy. I don't care if Horace Sykeston IV is the best thing since sliced bread! Mary got the boy to humanly act and interact; brought him to life through music, got him interested."

"Mary's a fine woman," Mr. Watch said to his glass of punch. "Well, isn't she? I'm talking to you all and if you all know what's good for you all, you all'll answer me!"

"Never you mind," Aunt Ida said to the judge. She's sorry for him. She says the poor man married in haste the second time and is regretting in leisure, that he purely and simply does not know what to do, and that Birdie would try the patience of a saint. "May I bring you a mite of Elizabeth Carver's peach cobbler? None better in the county or state. Or maybe cherry like Neal chose?" Aunt Ida likes to give credit where she thinks credit's due. She thinks her blackberry cobbler is better than Mrs. Carver's is. She's dead wrong. Is Neal about to tell her so? No!

"The mayor's all right," said Mr. Sanchez. Since he almost never talks, people almost always listen when he does. "All right if we all ride herd on her," said Mr. Watch. Now he was in Neal's way. Neal stacked his stuff on top of Nurse Comfort's plate and got ready. Catching the bottom of the pinstriped jacket, he tugged gently.

"Excuse me," he said a bunch of times. Then Miss Valjean came up behind him. Guess how he knew? Also, Mr. Watch didn't budge. Manno! Now Neal was dying of thirst and trapped between halitosis and Mr. Watch who was talking 90 miles an hour to Mr. Sanchez about a lot of boringus things and didn't look like he ever meant to move. "We all know Birdie can't speak a lick of Spanish, Pete. She needs your help with prospective buyers. My point is they need your protection from her. By all rights, you all deserve commissions from both buyer and seller. Isn't that right?" Mr. Watch asked his glass of punch. "And shoot, most of the vacancies are two-story wood frames from the 50s that have been let go to pieces and worse. They durn well ought to go cheap and the buyers ought to beware and be there. Meatpacking and grain plants and college and retirement homes will hire if the anyol plant doesn't get off the ground. Milo's a good place to raise a family if folks can afford the commute to work so long as the economy stays halfway sound."

Pete's dad nodded. Suddenly, Mr. Watch shifted from one leg to the other and peered down at his holey toes. Did he see Neal standing there and still tugging? No! "You all doing okay?" Mr. Watch asked. "Working too much overtime lately?" He finished quizzing his feet and went back to Mr. Sanchez. "I'm trying to get Birdie interested in Habitat for Humanity. I hear Boonetown has had success with the program. Of course, there's no money in it for her. I'll have to tackle it alone, I guess. Maybe Lacey will help." Mr. Watch remained planted. Neal gave up tugging. He crouched on the floor, forced to listen. Doc Oats and Miss Valjean said Habitat for Humanity would be good for the town. They said they'd lobby the mayor and Mr. Watch should apply for the grant. Mr. Sanchez wasn't talking. Still, he didn't say don't lobby or don't apply or that Habitat for Humanity was a bad thing.

"The devil himself sired her." The Judge said this between bites of peach cobbler.

Between legs and past skirts, Neal could see the table with food and, more important, drinks, especially one frosty pitcher of pink lemonade. He saw the marshal with Bud's grandparents, Mr. Boyd Easily and his wife Bertha, who are very big people, and Bud's twin great uncles, Mr. Floyd and Mr. Lloyd, and their wives, who are very big also. At 16 Bud's grandfather had a run-in with a threshing machine and you're lucky you don't have to learn this the way Neal learned it. After moving into Cabin C, the marshal introduced him to Mr. Easily. "Meet a real good friend, agent," said the marshal. Okay, when someone sticks out a stump and asks you to shake like a man, you try to shake like a man. Neal took and shook the stump but for at least a month the shadows doubled when the nights began.

Missing from the Open House were three grown-up Easilys: Bud's mother, a nurse's aide at the Veterans Hospital in Boonetown, who's little and skinny; his uncle, an escaped convict, who's regular-sized; and his dad, off somewhere fighting for our freedom, who does 200 sit-ups every morning before breakfast. His mother might be working. Aunt Ida says Ethel Easily works overtime to avoid the farm and her kids, which seems crazy to Neal so he doesn't think about it. Bud's uncle got in trouble with drugs. Neal can't spell methamphetamine by heart. Look it up. They caught him in Springfield, tried him and put him in the state pen. Then he broke loose and made it to Kansas. You never know when the marshall might hear more about him from the sheriff. But the marshal says better people than Easilys do not exist. Hey, shaking a stump is no fun but Mr. Easily only expects it the first time while he's telling you about his accident. If you get through that, he won't expect it again and even if he does, most things are easier the second time. For sure Bud's a good guy. Summers when he isn't playing ball or mowing, he loops a blacksnake around his neck. Winters he plows snow, traps, ice fishes, saps trees. He knows the River better than anyone except Mr. Noland, maybe even better than Delaney.

Seeing his agent, the marshal came to the rescue and asked if Neal wanted to watch for the Old Man. Manno, did he ever! Then, if you can believe it, Mr. Jasper, back from the kitchen but without Mrs. Carver, grabbed the marshal by the arm and Neal by his shoulder. "You all come with me," he ordered, yanking on them, "while I continue my proof of the pudding." The marshal put down his plate and went. Neal went too. You know when you have no choice. On the way, they had to stop and admire Mr. Jasper's plaque, spelled like what rots your teeth and never mind that. Neal knew about the good kind of plaque because of Miss Miller presenting him with one for excellence in first grade math and vocabulary. Last year Mayor Pride and the Milo council presented Mr. Jasper with one for bringing money to town. Someone has to tell you this. It doesn't say so on Mr. Jasper's plaque. After the year there are names and that's all. His is biggest. Underneath is the mayor and next the council members in alphabetical order: Alma Bates, J. D. Bates, Lacey Hooper, Valjean Oats, Jake Watch. Mr. Hooper is the only elected official absent from the Open House. Mrs. Hooper doesn't go anywhere and he doesn't go anywhere without her; Neal's mother and Pete's mother call Mr. Hooper a trooper.

"Mr. and Mrs. J. D. Bates," said Mrs. Bates. "I never understood what was wrong with that. Why, if it weren't for you, J. D., I wouldn't be on the council." Mrs. Bates is pudgy and short. Mr. Bates is tall and she looks up to him although she probably would even if she was the tallest. You might think this sounds impossible but she'd try to do it. They both have blue-white hair and lots of small warts. Aunt Ida calls it a miracle they are still in love. She says both of them are 85 if they are a day. "It's the times," said Mr. Bates to Mrs. Bates before they linked arms and walked away.

Look out! Guess who was talking to Mr. Jasper? Lewis N. Clark. He ignored the marshal and Neal. Hey, did they care? No! "Tom," he told Mr. Jasper, "on the 'Reap What You Sow Show', the latest gimmick is a replacement crew to take over when the original cast can no longer tolerate the hardships of living in character -- sort of new competition in the wings. Pumps up financial backing considerably. Talking high millions now. Can I have your answer?" Okay, Neal wouldn't have minded hearing more about high millions even from Lewis N. Clark but Mr. Jasper said he was busy and they would have to get together later. Then Mr. Jasper dragged the marshal and Neal across the hall into a big corner room someone had made of two small rooms. Windows with wide-open curtains faced south and east. The western sun shone in on long walls painted white. Neal blinked because the light hurt his eyes; after the dark hall, the sun in the room seemed way too bright.

Five large refrigerators with labels and padlocks lined the south wall of the bright sunny room. Why give compass directions? Okay, the thing is in a very full place knowing the four compass points can help. Was this a very full place? Yes, it was. Neal didn't know where to look next. How about at weird Mr. Sykeston sitting on a twin bed lined up with the middle refrigerator and tapping the keyboard of a laptop. By his side were dried leaves and seedpods spread out on newspaper. He picked up leaves and looked at them and tapped some more. Neal looked east because east is right and because he felt like it. He saw shelves of CDs, DVDs, tapes and old books. He saw Mariah on her knees in front of a glass cabinet reading a book. On the floor next to her lay what might be the key to the cabinet door. There were lots of locks. Here's a true fact: there were lots of people and lots of things; in the northwest corner Ham and Nurse Comfort played with lots of colored blocks.

"He has Senator Vest's handwritten notes on Old Drum's defense, Zora Neale Hurston's autographed first editions, every Charlie Chan ever movie made, US and foreign. I'm a collector and I'm blown away!" As usual, Neal's sister had lots to say!

"Awesome," Old Drum's statue is cool. Neal's not sure about Charlie Chan. He likes Jackie. But why was crazy Mariah jabbering like a nut case? She hardly knew Mr. Sykeston. She could get in real trouble. This happens. No problem -- even though he was thirsty, Neal was stronger for having eaten, readier to come to her defense.

"Horace, say hello to Marshal Will Lightfoot and young Neal Edruns-Striker, Jessie Edruns' grandson." Didn't Mr. Jasper see Mariah and hear her? Sure. You don't miss Mariah. But you could tell he didn't give a dingle what she thought about movies, books or anything. If you're old and sick, people let you behave like this. They probably let you if you're young and sick. But you'd better not try it unless you're one or the other or you'll be sorry. Mr. Sykeston said he'd met the marshal and Neal earlier. He closed up the laptop and limped over to them, humming a funny little tune. Neal decided this might be a good time to say, "good afternoon."

"Good afternoon to you," Mr. Sykeston replied. With his small hand that smelled sort of like peppermint patties dunked in black coffee, he lifted Neal's chin to take a look. "I've heard of the genetic phenomenon but not seen it. Interesting!" he said.

"Hold on now," said the marshal with his fox face turning fire-engine red.

"Slow down to a halt," said Mariah, "and thoroughly explain the genetic crack."

Neal stood still for it but he wished he could take his good afternoon back.

"Please forgive me," said Mr. Sykeston, letting go and smiling. "No harm intended, I assure you. I'm inclined to be a talkative fool over any rarity." He offered his hand to the marshal who looked hard at it before he took and shook it. "Glad to see you again, marshal. Sorry I haven't been able to join in the festivities but Preacham required extra attention today. Then Mariah stopped by to amuse herself with my small library and film collection of English language mysteries and certain other peculiar fields of study. Mary arrived to relieve me and I've been taking advantage of that kindness to record taxonomy findings. Plants are my true reason for living, you know." He said this last to Mr. Jasper and returned to the bed. "Atropa belladonna," he said, holding out a handful of what looked like henbane and smacking his lips like he meant to gobble the leaves and twigs for lunch. You can bet Mr. Watch would have called Mr. Sykeston puffed up twice as proud as punch.

"Do you know that's poison?" That the marshal asked this question didn't surprise Neal one bit. Hey, their job is to give protection even when people don't ask for it.

Wur! Mr. Sykeston headed for the marshal in a huff. "I'm a university-educated scientist, my good sir, with a doctorate in plant chemistry." You could tell he wanted to fight but Mr. Jasper grabbed the marshal's shoulder and, keeping to Mr. Sykeston's east side, steered the marshal past. For a sick old man, he moved fast.

"Say hello to Mary Comfort, Will, if you all haven't done so already. Mary's back from nursing school and life is easier for us because of it. She goes every year to keep up her skills. Mary's a wonder, she is. And this is my grandson Preacham. Listen, Will, don't you all be too hard on Horace. He arrived out of the blue like an angel of mercy. Didn't he, Mary? We couldn't get by without him, now, could we?"

"No, sir," said Nurse Comfort softly.

"Nosiree! And we couldn't do without you, Mary! Nosirree bobtail!" Like the marshal, Mr. Jasper seemed worried about Nurse Comfort. Well, if he toots Mr. Sykeston's horn, what does he expect? If he wants to make Nurse Comfort happy, he should say how great she is, not how great someone else is. Actually, Mr. Jasper looked ready like Freddie for the day he wouldn't have to worry about whose horn to toot. He looked ready like Freddie to stop worrying about anyone, also anything.

"Why, why, why?" and nobody answered but guess who they all began watching?

Manno! Ham should have known people would begin watching him if he talked -- except for Mariah with her nose stuck in an old book and Neal whose eyes are trained to drift. Ham kept at it, facing them out of the V of the corner, his hair longer and darker than Delaney's, his hands loose in front of him and the rest of him looking pretty small. Neal held up a high five. Hey, you're dumb if you're mean to Ham. Sometimes he's perfectly fine and regular. He stuck out his long thin fingers and bent over a block but didn't touch it. He sat up straight and shut his eyes. The colored blocks made him look like a stage puppet asking his dumb question. You can't help but sort of act in a play when you're stared at by everyone.

"We'll be seeing you, Ham boy;" Mr. Jasper sounded like he'd seen enough today.

"We'll be seeing you, Ham boy," Ham repeated like felt the same way.

"Be sure he visits his great-grandmother in the morning, Mary."

"Will she?" Ham raised his shoulders and swung his right arm around his head. Maybe he wanted to know if the matriarch would see him when he visited her. "Answer," he yelled at Nurse Comfort who backed off. Mr. Sykeston moved in to settle Ham down. Some people are way better at settling down others than others.

"Good show," Mr. Sykeston told Ham, "but we need to ask your brother."

Suddenly, Ham lowered his arm and put both hands behind his back like he knew what Mr. Sykeston meant and planned to wait for Delaney. He got better or maybe you should say quieter not better. When Nurse Comfort took a block, he let her.

"Before you go, Tom, why not examine Deer 2?" Ham stayed quiet while Mr. Sykeston handed Mr. Jasper a ring of keys. "I've reorganized the contents and shelves as agreed. You'll find it easier to locate what Delaney and the Easilys need."

Okay, sometimes you have to be brave or you won't learn anything at all and later you'll be sorry. Neal walked by himself to the refrigerators and read to himself the labels taped to the doors: Deer 1, Deer 2, Deer 3, People and Plants. If you don't have to read out loud, why do it? Reading to yourself gives you this secret from the world: no one knows how much you know but you and that's good. This is a fact.

"Interested?" asked Mr. Sykeston, peeking at his eyes as Neal stepped back.

"To tell the truth the labels are my idea," said Mr. Jasper who sure liked taking credit for everything good while he could. You might say plenty about how great a man he was but he wanted you to say it some more. "No need to get fancy, I figured. People has Preacham's medication up top, mine and Philomena's below."

"And my shingles medication," added Nurse Comfort, sorting socks by the window.

Mr. Sykeston quit snooping around Neal's eyes and looked hard at the marshal. "Plants contains herbal remedies, an experimental line," he said. Okay, Neal didn't know about his boss but he was tired of weird Mr. Sykeston and of dying Mr. Jasper with his crow head and goat beard. Mariah never tires of death or the weird.

"Yes, Plants is for Horace's hobby," said Mr. Jasper. "Deer 1 is for deer doses and treatment. Deer 3 is reserved for semen if we get into the business. If we do, we'll have to maintain the temperature constant at 320 degrees F with an accurate list of Fairwell Whitetail donors with B&C Points and dates and or lose our investment. Tricky business, deer semen, yessiree. We'll either be dang careful or dang sorry."

"Tricky but lucrative," said Mr. Sykeston. Neal moved within easy touching distance of the marshal. If you want to get close enough to your boss so you can fight weirdness together as a team and your boss doesn't mind, hey, go ahead!

"Let's us open her up, Horace, and see what you all have done," Mr. Jasper said.

Next he turned a key in the padlock and opened the door to Deer 2. Neal peered inside and got a whiff of soap, gas, smoke from burning rubber and alcohol. His blue eye watered. His mother says it's the more sensitive eye. When he ducked so Mr. Sykeston wouldn't notice, he could smell cedar wood. Cedar wood smells good.

"These are lures and maskers." Mr. Jasper pointed to the labeled jars on the top shelf. "Deer have a keen smeller. Vet says they can smell a half a mile away. Deer and bobcat urine are the best lures outside of plain old acorns. It's a peculiar fact that deer will follow a predator's smell. Nobody knows why. Then for masking and shielding," and he pointed to the next shelf, "we got ourselves spearmint and a raft of other locally grown mints, rabbit tobacco, skunk spray, household disinfectants and old-fashioned turpentine. There's scraps and shavings from cedar and scrub pine in the north Missouri woods but you don't want to overdo cedar and pine."

"Do you keep the Old Man's favorite treats in here?" If you have to listen, you might as well try to learn something that you actually want to know and Neal didn't see one thing in Deer 2 that he would want to munch on but, hey, he's not a deer.

"Boy, you curious about that, Elizabeth Carver's the one to ask. You all make sure and ask her about the Old Man's favorite treats before you all go home today."

"Okay." There are so many questions to get through that you'd think people would just give you an answer when they know the answer to one. Well, they don't always and sometimes you have to ask again and again for the answer to one question.

"Where did you get the DVD for Gosford Park, possibly the finest whodunit ever filmed? Not on the net so tell me." Neal's sister never minds bugging people for information to help her do what she wants in her world. She doesn't care about theirs; she says this makes her a thoroughly modern girl and she says girl.

"Delighted to order it. Consider it a gift," said Mr. Sykeston. "I've an Altman connection." Mariah liked that; she turned back to his book and video collection.

Mr. Jasper locked Deer 2 and gave the keys to Mr. Sykeston. Then he dragged the marshal and Neal out of the room just as he'd dragged them in. When Neal looked around, Nurse Comfort and Ham were at the blocks and Mariah was kneeling on the floor. Next to her, Mr. Sykeston was tilting forward to push shut the door.

In the hall, the marshal said nice things as the three of them walked on. He said how fine everything looked and how pleasantly cool it was inside the mansion.

"Central Air. Cost a bundle but worth every dollar," said Mr. Jasper. "Do you remember how hot the summers got, how you stuck your head outside to breathe, wet down the sheets, prayed for dark?" He gripped the marshal's arm and Neal's shoulder. Okay, would Neal ever get a drink or ever escape from Mr. Jasper?

"I remember the third floor of the Lightfoot house," said the marshal. "Hot as blue blazes in the summer. Cold as a witch's never-mind in the winter." Neal might not have minded hearing more about a witch's never-mind but he knew this wasn't going to happen. On bring thirsty, he'd settle for a cup of tap water. The big thing was he was truly tired of being hauled from place to place but he had to stay with the marshal, didn't he? Also, how could he get loose? He heard the Melody Men singing, "My Bonnie lies over the ocean. My Bonnie lies over the sea. My Bonnie lies over the ocean. Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me." Then he got pulled off to the kitchen. Look out! This might be a break. He might get a cool drink and through the back door if he handled it right, took care of all the problems, made no mistake.

"I do believe you all have seen the works, Will," said Mr. Jasper, hanging onto them for dear life and leaning against the hall wall. Don't think for a single second he'd quit talking. No way! "I got myself professional care for Preacham and a smart business partner in the same man," he said. "Horace convinced Boyd Easily to sign a contract taking on hunters in the fall after crops are in. We needed good guides and scouts who wouldn't charge an arm and a leg and Easilys were the smart choice. They've farmed Fairwell corn, beans and wheat for better than a century; still do. Point is they know the territory; they're natural woodsmen; and here's the clincher: they're honest. You all don't find honesty any old where these days. Boyd's son Charley is fighting in the war so that's a setback but I promise you all if you all hold off making your fortune until the wars end, you all won't have one thin dime. Boyd's grandson Bud is coming along, good hardworking boy, and there are the newest set of twins who seem sturdy enough. As for Milton's trouble, the family's large. One wrong brother don't mean a thing. With Horace and the Easilys teamed up tight, the future's right. Yessir, I'm about set to turn out my light."

Mr. Jasper hung on to the marshal but finally turned loose of Neal who was pretty sure he would never turn out his light. Not really. Instead he would talk forever about how ready he was to do this. Reaching into his suit coat pocket by his knobby hipbone, the old man dug out a packet of Bull Durham. With his cane he touched an old-timey copper spittoon by the kitchen door. "I'm sorry to run my mouth like this, Will, but I've a bad pain in my gut and worry on my mind. I need a friend."

Scary as it sounds, forever is forever; in other words, forever never ends.

"Sure, Tom." Some people need friends; some need drinks. Also, forever stinks.

Mr. Jasper stuck a tobacco wad in his mouth and shifted it from one cheek to the other. Wur! "Come on, Will" he said and tugged the marshal after him. Both men seemed to have forgotten Neal. This was fine. He slipped into the kitchen behind them and made for the backdoor. Forget the drink. He'd get a drink outside. The kids would be there. Croquet takes a while to start. He had a craving for people his size and smaller, pop in a cooler, oatmeal cookies, brownies and watermelon. He'd snag Bud, take off his boots and if this bothered Alicia, then he and Bud would watch from the side of the house for the Old Man to show. Sometimes you're so tired of putting up with stuff you don't care if your girlfriend thinks you're gross.

"Hold your horses, son, and take this with you." Manno! Now he had to wait forever again while Mrs. Carver cut applesauce cake into perfect squares. She did pour him some cranberry juice on ice when he told her he was thirsty. Also, she told him the Old Man's favorite treats are peanuts and roasted pecans, unsalted. "He likes pomegranate seeds, if you can feature that," she said. "Last year Delaney took him some and we watched him have himself a feast on the fruit. Left the pulp just like a human would. Of course, we don't raise pomegranates hereabouts so he has to make do with nuts except on special occasions. He's a character, that one."

"See Philomena, did you? Like I told you to?" Mr. Jasper chewed tobacco and talked right in the marshal's face. Neal faded farther back beside Mrs. Carver. He liked hearing about the Old Man's treats but he wished she'd hurry. He didn't know how much more of Mr. Jasper he could stand before starting to cry like a big baby.

"Yes, the agent and I paid our respects; she sure does look well for her years."

"She's no fool and she's never had good to say about the deer but she has to put up with the operation now; I've got her over a barrel where she cannot interfere."

"Say, Tom, you know when I left, you were working for the Easilys. Jake wrote about you courting Helen Fairwell and then about you losing wife and daughter. Don't think I ever had the chance before to tell you personally how sorry I am over that double trouble. Sounds like enough to make a man give up." The marshal's foxy cheeks wrinkled. His whole face began to change. He looked sad and strange.

"If you all get the news from Jake, you all know what there is to know." This seemed like a pretty mean thing to let someone say about your best friend but the marshal didn't say anything back so maybe it was okay. You can't always be sure what you hear means what it sounds like when you listen to what grown-ups say.

"You must be right proud of Delaney," said the marshal, "seems a fine boy."

"Shoot, Elizabeth and I think the young ones are placed here on God's green earth to bring us heartbreak and joy."

Mrs. Carver sniffed. She didn't talk. She did stop cutting and washed and dried the knife. Neal held his breath. From a cupboard she got paper plates. From a drawer she pulled pink paper napkins and white plastic forks. With a silver server, she lifted cake squares to plates. She stacked napkins and counted out forks. Neal felt like lying on the floor and kicking his feet. The kids would use their hands to eat!

Mr. Jasper left. To use the spittoon, Neal guessed. Sometimes guessing is good enough. You don't need to know totally gorpy stuff to do your job and if you do, Neal's finding a new job. Just kidding, sort of. When the old man returned, he had something the color of Neal's juice. The label on the bottle read Wild Irish Rose. "Cheap!" said Mr. Jasper, uncapping and swigging and swallowing. His hands and head shook. He looked crazier and crazier. "That was a purely dumb thing to push your way, Will," he said, "about kids being the end all and be all. All these years, around the world, you all never got hitched? Never fathered chick nor child?"

"Nope," said the marshal -- his fox face back to normal with no frown, no smile.

"Dang me, I know for a fact what you all are wondering -- wondering how Tom Jasper could snag Helen Fairwell." Suddenly Mr. Jasper had a sneaky face in the dead center of his crazy white feathers. He stared at Neal and Neal wished he wouldn't. "Well, I expect this tadpole's old enough to hear plain truth. It was easy to get around the old woman. Helen told her mother she was pregnant. We were married the next day. Helen died in childbirth the following year. Daughter Ann, like her mother, got herself pregnant out of wedlock. God rest both their souls. Delaney and Preacham are the tie that binds Fairwell to Jasper for eternity."

"You take a lot on yourself, telling your stories in front of this boy," said Mrs. Carver; "you're better off resting now; leastwise, that's how it appears to me."

You keep your ears open when people say they're worried about what you might hear. Besides, how Delaney and Preacham were born and how their mother and grandmother lived and sinned and died, unlike a lot of what Mr. Jasper had to say, wasn't a bit boringus. Also, was it Neal's fault Mr. Jasper talked about things Mrs. Carver thought Neal shouldn't know? She probably didn't realize how much information an agent requires to do a job, especially information that doesn't make you fall over and go to sleep. Look out! For the first time in a long time, Neal got a break. Mrs. Carver, for her own reasons, was getting a move on with the cake.

Deer semen not unmarried ladies having babies in sin worried the marshal. He acted like he didn't care what Neal heard as he stared down at the floor. "Delaney and Preacham Fairwell," he muttered. Mr. Jasper took another loud slurp and swallowed. Mrs. Carver stood still. She patted Neal's head, her hand cool and silky.

Mr. Jasper said, "gave in to her on Jasper but Fairwell's a plenty fine name."

"What's having her over a barrel mean, Tom; that's a funny thing to say?"

"Means this -- after working 30 years without pay, I got myself a lawyer. Again it was Horace suggested it. He'd moved back for the court's disposition of old Judge Sykeston's estate. He got the first 500 acres we use for the deer parks out of that settlement. The business leases those acres and we all benefit. Anyhow, I saw Judge Pride in his county seat law office on the square. The judge said I had a substantial interest in all Fairwell holdings. Substantial was his word. He drew up papers making it legal for Horace and me to use the premises for deer farming so long as Philomena gets her piece of the income. I had cash put aside. We opened in '95. Flood of '93 hurt but to come through that flood at all was a blessing. '93 set these parts way back. Fairwell Whitetail Farms helped bring them around. We're here to stay and ain't a thing Philomena can do about it! That is the plain truth!"

"If she could do something to stop you, Tom, why would she want to?"

"That old woman's peculiar, Will; you all know her."

"Seems easier in her mind than she once was, as I remember."

"Think so? She and I have been through some terrible, terrible times; so long as the boys get their just entitlement, reckon I hope her last years are an easier go."

"Amen," said Mrs. Carver, "and rest easy yourself. Where you all putting up, marshal?" Neal had closed his eyes. A cool hand on your head can do that, especially if you're waiting forever. Look out! Was the cake ready? There were 16 perfect squares on 16 plates with 16 folded napkins and 16 forks. What could she find to do next? She crossed the room for a tray. Neal wanted to be with kids so much he almost forgot his feet hurt. Wur! But he held his breath and didn't stir.

"Angling to put up permanent at Juanita's Travel Stop," said the marshal; he gave a foxy snicker and tugged his earring; you could tell of all the places in the world to put up permanent Juanita's Travel Stop was and always would be his favorite.

"Some folks are lucky in love," said Mrs. Carver as she balanced the tray against her knee and polished the wood to a shine with a cloth; Neal could not believe it.

"Anyhow, here's the clincher," said Mr. Jasper. "Lewis N. Clark has investment ideas where he gets a cut of what we make but he really wants to buy us out, lock, stock and barrel. $5.5 million he offered me a bit ago. That offer's new." The marshal choked. Mrs. Carver set down the tray and thumped his back. Neal's mouth hung open. No doubt he looked exactly like Delaney over Trinity Clark only it was money making Neal look stupid. He didn't want to look stupid. Who did?

"Course I can't sell a dingdong marigold petal or sassafras root way the property's held today. When the old woman and I are gone, Delaney can do what he wants. He'll take good care of his brother. I know the boy. So, what do you all say? Is my stake safe enough to bow the head, cross the arms, fold the bones, let them lay?"

What will happen to Mr. Sykeston when you and the matriarch are dead? Neal didn't ask out loud. You can only care so much and he didn't care much about this. Time marches on and weird Mr. Sykeston's future wasn't high on Neal's care list.

He got close to Mrs. Carver for the handover. She stopped thumping the marshal who'd stopped coughing and was telling Mr. Jasper he should be proud of all he'd accomplished. For a minute, Mr. Jasper actually was quiet. Then the mayor and Mr. Clark charged in and that's all it took to start him up. He told everyone to hush so he could propose a toast. Okay, you aren't allowed to leave in the middle of a toast. Besides Mrs. Carver was still fussing. She washed her hands and poured Neal more cranberry juice. Actually, he never drinks cranberry juice if he can help it -- not since Mariah told him red juices are colored with ground up beetles -- but there are times when you go along. You just do. Also, you can't always explain what you want. He couldn't explain how he felt trapped in the kitchen and how much he wanted to leave. Mr. Jasper must have felt trapped too since there's nothing you can do about death but wait until, long as a lizard and loose as a goose, it comes for you. But explaining what he wanted was something Mr. Jasper knew how to do.

"To Fairwell Whitetail Farms and Milo, Missouri. May they prosper." Mr. Jasper's voice was clear. He must have spit out the wad. Wur! Never mind! "Monday I drive to Kansas City to discuss details. I'll have more to report when I return." Lewis N. Clark and the mayor buzzed like big bees. Mrs. Carver handed Neal the tray and he was able to get out. From all over came kids, everyone but Delaney. If you're wondering about Trinity Clark, she's no kid. Neal sat between Alicia and Bud and relaxed. Manno, about time! Alicia had her shoes off. She let Neal wear her earphones. She read Bud's fortune in leaves of tea. Alicia really should be on TV.

"You're only young once." Mrs. Carver must have followed. She poured orange juice into cups and passed the cups around. The marshal stayed looking through the window. Neal wished he wouldn't; it reminded him of how soon they had to go.

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