Plain Tales from the Hills

Abstract

Plain Tales from the Hills Castle Freeman Jr. (bio) From where we were sitting, out back, we could see katie, Buster’s daughter, get home from work. Her car door slammed, then the house door slammed, then she was in the kitchen. She saw us through the window. She went to the screen door, opened it, kicked off her sandals, and walked barefoot over the grass toward us. “Well, well,” said Katie. “We’ve got the real old boys’ club going out here this afternoon, don’t we?” “Not anymore,” said Stuart. Katie took the chair next to Buster’s. She stretched her back and shoulders and fluffed her hair with both hands. She shook her head. “I don’t know,” said Katie, “I think that woman is going to drive me nuts.” “Why should you be different?” said Arnold. “She doesn’t know what she wants,” said Katie. “That’s the thing. She doesn’t know what she likes.” “She likes you,” said Buster. “Says she does.” “She says that because I’m the only one’s not afraid of her,” said Katie. “I tell her. I let her know exactly what I think.” “I can believe that,” said Buster. “Can’t you?” he asked me. “Yes,” I said. “Listen,” Buster said to Katie. “She’s old. That’s all.” But Stuart started laughing. “Makes me think of Reg,” he said. “Reg and I used to drive in every day, and one day we came around that bend other side of the dam, it was winter, a little slick, and here’s a guy, out-of-stater, and his car’s about halfway in the ditch. The guy’s out of the car, he’s standing there, and he is pissed, just pissed off. “So Reg and I stop, get out, and we’re all standing around trying to decide what to do. You know: get out the chain, try to pull him; try to push him; go for help. And Reg says, ‘Well, you want to know what I think?’ And the guy, the out-of-stater, says, ‘Hell, no, I don’t want to know what you fucking think.’” “She’s getting old,” Buster told Katie. “She’s all by herself. Pay her no mind.” “‘Hell, no, I don’t want to know what you fucking think,’ said Stuart. ‘Hell, no.’ He was pissed.” “She’s the owner, Pop,” said Katie. “She’s my boss. How am I not to mind?” “I told you,” said Buster. “She’s old. She worries. You worry when you’re old.” [End Page 88] “Well, then,” said Katie, “if she’s so old, somebody ought to put her out of her misery. You know?” “Stick her out in the snowbank,” said Arnold. “Put her out there for the winter,” said Stuart. “What?” Katie asked. “But then, don’t dig her up. Leave her out there,” said Arnold. “Goodbye, Rosemary.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Katie. “Do you?” “Talking about the good old days,” said Stuart. “Back when men were men,” said Buster. “Most of the women and children were men, too,” said Arnold. “They had to be,” said Buster. “Back then,” said Stuart. “What it was,” said Arnold, “this reporter’s up in the northern part of the state one time, little town up there, way up on the border. Really poor town, just poverty hollow up there. I guess it’s late fall, starting to be winter.” “Probably sometime in July, up there,” said Buster. “Probably is,” Arnold said. “And he finds the people in town are getting ready to starve to death. I guess the crops were even worse than usual that year. They don’t have enough food to get them through the winter. They can’t feed everybody. No chance. So, what they do—” “What they always do, that time of year,” said Stuart. “When winter really comes,” Arnold went on, “it gets real cold, starts to snow, they take all the old people in town, give them some kind of drug, knock them out, wrap them up in wet blankets, and bury them in the snowbanks. Leave them there.” “For...