Del approached one of the workers. “What’s the matter with him?”
“Got the fever, I betcha.”
Crow said, “Dewdrop, get Gus, tell him to bring the wagon round and to hurry it up.”
Dewdrop took off running down the path, while Crow reflected further on Ballard. “Thought he seemed a mite puny these past couple of weeks.”
Ballard’s eyelids fluttered, his chest rose, sank, and didn’t rise again. Crow dropped to his knees, put his hand over the man’s mouth. Next, he laid his head on his chest. He straightened up, lifted Ballard’s arm, and let it drop. It hit the dirt with a dull thud.
He bent over, shouted in Ballard’s ear. “Hey! Ballard!”
He sat back on his haunches, elbows propped on his knees, gazing with a puzzled look at the body in front of him.
With a hint of wonderment, Crow said, “The son of a gun’s done died on us.”
Del had seen enough dead people to know what a body looked like after the soul fled, and Ballard was good as gone. Those who worked for the fallen woods rider spoke in low voices, clearly worried over what would happen. The kid appeared upset. He’d dropped the hand covering his eye, and Del winced at the sight. Gus Strickland arrived with the wagon, and the men grew quiet as he pulled alongside Ballard.
Somehow word had got to Peewee, who arrived right after Gus and he said, “I’ll be damned. He’s dead?”
Crow said, “He’s a goner.”
Peewee said, “Got a missus, them young’uns too. It’s a shame. Got to have me another woods rider. Somebody’s got to take over his work hands.”
Crow said, “Put’em under me. I’ll work’em better’n anybody else.”
Peewee said, “You can’t handle twice the men. Too much area to ride, too many to keep up with. Naw. Woodall, he done lost two today. They didn’t never find’em, and I can’t be having no more opportunities for’em to run.”
The work hands shuffled about, hearing the big boss man discuss men escaping. Del had heard of Woodall only a couple times. He had a pack a coon hounds used to hunt the ones who took off. Aside from the thick woods, there were areas of cypress waters a few miles to the east of the camp, and some had been led to believe they had a chance of escaping through them. Nobody ever heard back from those who made the attempt. This was either good news or bad. Del dropped his eyes to where Ballard lay and didn’t dare spare a glance at Peewee.
The silence grew, then Peewee said, “Butler. Why’nt you take Ballard’s job? You said you’d done it all when I hired you on.”
Crow made a derisive noise. “He’ll go softer on’em than Ballard did. He’ll hold’em by the hand, pat’em on the ass, let’em do as much or as little as they want.”
Peewee waved at Del to step away from the others. Crow paced, clearly agitated as they went out of earshot.
Under the shade of a tall pine, Peewee said, “Here’s the truth. I got to have someone keeping Sweeney in check. Every single one of them workers needs to do what we expect’em to do. Everyone liked Ballard. He could get these hands going and he did it without damaging the goods, if you get my meaning. Now, I know the new kid ain’t keeping up. I expect he’ll get better as time goes on. Sweeney, he’s heavy-handed, but I always hold out hope he’ll see it can be done different. Will you do it? I’ll up your pay. How’s a dollar a day?”
That was twenty-five cents more than what he was making. Del contemplated everything taking the job meant. He’d be in charge of workers all good at making their quota except Cobb, and he could worry about him when he had to. While he loved working the trees, being a woods rider won’t so bad, either. He would be equal to Crow. He studied his worn-out boots, the Hoover leather having been replaced many times over. A bit more money might allow him to buy some things he was needing. Pay off his commissary debt. The thing was, he remembered telling Crow he’d be better at it. If he took it, Crow was sure to remember, and he was the sort who’d make it his job to prove him wrong.
Peewee said, “A dollar twenty-five.”
He’d be a fool not to take it.
Del said, “All right.”
Peewee clapped his hand on Del’s shoulder, “Something tells me you’ll do real good.”
Del stuck his thumb over his shoulder at Crow. “Don’t let him know you think so.”
Peewee dipped in closer to Del. “Yeah, he can be tough to deal with. Him and Otis, they’s tight. Like to stir things up. Mean sons a bitches is what they are. It worries me sometimes when I see the two of’em together; they’re the conniving sort.”