“She would want us all there,” pa says.
“Let’s take Cash to the doctor first,” Darl said. “She’ll wait. She’s already waited nine days.”
“You all don’t know,” pa says. “The somebody you was young with and you growed old in her and she growed old in you, seeing the old coming on and it was the one somebody you could hear say it don’t matter and know it was the truth outen the hard world and all a man’s grief and trials. You all don’t know.”
“We got the digging to do, too,” I said.
“Armstid and Gillespie both told you to send word ahead,” Darl said. “Don’t you want to go to Peabody’s now, Cash?”
“Go on,” I said. “It feels right easy now. It’s best to get things done in the right place.”
“If it was just dug,” pa says. “We forgot our spade, too.”
“Yes,” Darl said. “I’ll go to the hardware store. We’ll have to buy one.”
“It’ll cost money,” pa says.
“Do you begrudge her it?” Darl says.
“Go on and get a spade,” Jewel said. “Here, give me the money.”
But pa didn’t stop. “I reckon we can get a spade,” he said. “I reckon there are Christians here.” So Darl set still and we went on, with Jewel squatting on the tailgate, watching the back of Dad’s head. He looked like one of these bulldogs, one of these dogs that don’t bark none, squatting against the rope, watching the thing he was waiting to jump at.
He set that way all the time we was in front of Mrs. Bundren’s house, hearing the music, watching the back of Darl’s head with them hard