that appearance that old dogs have. “You’d better make up your mind soon, so we can get there and get a load on before dark,” I say.
“Ma ain’t that sick,” Jewel says. “Shut up, Darl.”
“That’s right,” Vernon says. “She seems more like herself today than she has in a week. Time you and Jewel get back, she’ll be setting up.”
“You ought to know,” Jewel says. “You been here often enough looking at her. You or your folks.” Vernon looks at him. Jewel’s eyes look like pale wood in his high-blooded face. He is a head taller than any of the rest of us, always was. I told them that’s why ma always whipped him and petted him more. Because he was peakling around the house more. That’s why she named him Jewel I told them.
“Shut up, Jewel,” pa says, but as though he is not listening much. He gazes out across the land, rubbing his knees.
“You could borrow the loan of Vernon’s team and we could catch up with you,” I say. “If she didn’t wait for us.”
“Ah, shut your goddamn mouth,” Jewel says.
“She’ll want to go in ourn,” pa says. He rubs his knees. “Don’t ere a man mislike it more.”
“It’s laying there, watching Cash whittle on that damn …” Jewel says. He says it harshly, savagely, but he does not say the word. Like a little boy in the dark to flail his courage and suddenly aghast into silence by his own noise.
“She wanted that like she wants to go in our own wagon,” pa says. “She’ll rest easier for knowing it’s a good one, and private. She was ever a private woman. You know it well.”