Peewee wagged a finger. “Ain’t nobody running. Ain’t nobody gonna need no hounds.”
Crow and Woodall exchanged a shrewd look, but Peewee ignored them and finished up.
“Wagons will show up earlier tomorrow at five o’clock since it’s a little farther out from camp. And y’all be sure and get them fires going soon as possible since we’ll be right next to the swamp.”
He turned his horse around and trotted off down the path. Meanwhile, Clyde, who’d been quiet the entire time, clucked his tongue at Jackson. Del tugged on Ruby’s rein to follow Clyde when Crow called out to him.
“Hey!”
Del pulled up, waiting to hear what dumb thing he had to say. Woodall wore a little grin while he slouched in his saddle, sucking on his teeth.
Crow came close to Del, and said, “You think you know it all, don’t you? First day you showed up, telling me what you was hired to do, I said it to myself, now there’s a nigra lover.” Crow pointed at Del and spoke to Woodall. “I’m telling you, I can spot one a mile away. Can’t you, Woodall?”
Woodall said, “Why sure. I seen it too. Ain’t no doubt.”
Crow said, “Tell you what else I know. I know somebody’s been hanging around the commissary a lot, acting interested in that Cobb character. I can’t hardly imagine why a woman would go and do something like’at, can you, Woodall?”
“Naw, sure can’t. Real curious, ain’t it?”
Crow leaned his head back so his eyes were slits. “You interested in her, him, whatever it is?”
Coincidentally, a crow flew overhead, emitting a raucous cawing, and received a distant response from another perched at the top of a tall longleaf pine, and meanwhile, Del considered what he was about to say. He figured he ought to keep his mouth shut, but he chose to speak.
He said, “I’d say it’s better’n being mama’s little boy, I know that much.”
Woodall made a choking sound, and Crow flushed a deep red. Even as Del lit the fire he was sure burned in Crow’s belly for revenge, he didn’t much care.
Crow said, “What in hell are you talking about?”
“I seen you the other night. The both of you. You and . . .”
Del couldn’t resist clapping his hands together, mimicking the sound he’d heard. He never thought he’d see Crow speechless. Crow yanked his horse around, kicked its sides, and rode off.
Woodall watched his departure, and said, “Reckon you done it now. If I was you, I’d sleep with that shotgun real handy.”
Woodall clucked at his horse and followed Crow. Del was only vaguely worried, and more than a bit smug. He’d finally one-upped the son of a gun, and he rode back to camp enjoying that fact. After he situated Ruby in her stall, he left the barn and made his way to his house. There was no sign of movement over to Crow’s and for that he was grateful. Inside, he grabbed a pair of scissors Mrs. Ballard must have left behind, his razor, and after pumping water into a pan, he stood on the back porch, facing a mirror hung on a post. He began snipping off his beard. It was long overdue. He’d been letting it grow ever since he’d wandered the South Georgia woods and it was too hot, plus his face itched. As he trimmed, he wondered about Rae Lynn’s hair, how it looked longer. She’d not done such a bad job cutting it, if that’s how it got so short. He got to thinking about her cutting his, and this led him to ruminating on her being close, her skin colored like golden syrup, her green eyes like newly sprung grass, her soft breasts within inches of his face as she bent down to run her fingers through…
Out of nowhere, something started happening that hadn’t in a long while. He went absolutely still, hands midair, staring back at himself in surprise. He looked down. It was happening, and his thoughts tumbled one over the other at what seemed like a miracle. They became as tangled as his beard, and then what was happening, reversed. No. No. No. Gone. But, still. This was a good sign. Maybe all he needed was the right woman. Maybe all he needed was her. He finished shaving and rubbed his fingers along his clean jawline. Better. Much better. She might notice.
Early the next morning, he guided Ruby onto the new trail. It was just before five o’clock and the eastern sky lay before him, plum colored with the last dwindling stars scattered in the west. He followed the double-rutted path, most parts overgrown with wiregrass, but here and there cream-colored sandy soil stretched before him in two distinct parallel rows where wagons had gone before. He reflected on how long it might have been since this section of the camp had been worked. After a while he came to a fork and he nudged Ruby to go right. A barred owl took off from a turkey oak; wings stretched wide and with a flap or two, it sailed into the depths of the woods and disappeared. He spotted Clyde’s wagon in the distance. It had grown lighter by now, and the early-morning sun washed the land in warm, honey-colored tones. He urged Ruby to go a little faster, and when he was close to the wagon, he called out to Clyde and the men.